Waltz of Apocalypse
by TheSilentThief
Summary: AU A terrible war between a kingdom and a thief. Rumors of a bringer of destruction. And a fallen 'angel' who might be able to bring salvation in the darkest of places. MalikxRyouxBakura
1. Prelude

Hail fellow, well met, and all that. A few notes before the story:

1) It is alternate universe, which means I've kept to some tenants of YGO but ignored others. Think of it as fundamentally similar to Egypt, but different

2) I kind of think revealing pairings before a story starts ruins the fun of watching them develop, but people do tend to look at that kind of thing before choosing to read a story, so they're as follows: The main love triangle, MalikxRyouxBakura. And some other pairings that may be more or less developed depending on time and interest: YugixAtemu, SetoxIshizu, and JonouchixAnzu. We'll see how things pan out.

3) Lastly, I have always hated that Ryou is given a traditionally wimpy character who only reacts to things. it's a pet peeve of mine, so don't be fooled by how he appears here. I just need the time to develop him, as at this point he has literally no experience in the world. That's all.

Disclaimer: YuGiOh and all its respective characters and plotlines belong to Kazuki Takahashi. I own only the fingers that I type with.

---

The first memories he had were of bubbles, thus proving that whatever God might have existed did have a sense of irony. Authors have time and again likened the most precious, intangible aspects of life to bubbles-beautiful and yet at the same time utterly fragile, ready to burst at the slightest provocation. Where his memories went from there on out were not nearly so poetic. Tubes, thousands of meters of tubes dripping mixtures into his system, everything from nutrients to keep him alive to mysterious chemicals that seemed off-colored and peculiar in a dangerous way. It was unlike anything he had felt, though his range of feelings was limited; to his childish knowledge his life span was very short, and his development was unusual when compared to those whom he had seen come and go sometimes.

There had been one little boy in particular who had come and gone several times, giving him some vague sense of his difference. The boy had been tiny the first time, and his own eyes had barely functioned enough to make out a blur. The boy had come forward, emanating peculiar behavioral signs; his eyes darted back and forth, and his small fingers trembled when he reached forward towards the glass. At that time…yes, he'd realized too that he was separated from the world he quietly observed by a transparent barrier. 'Glass' he would pick up from the mouths of the people who tended to him. But none of them were nearly as interesting as the little boy. They showed no interesting behaviors nor unusual voices-it was as though there was only one person and he had been multiplied by five or ten. But he had picked up words from those men and for that he was grateful. It gave comprehension to the view he beheld. When the boy first visited he learned of youth, and of hope.

The second time the boy visited he was noticeably taller, enough that he looked up only a little to see the figure suspended behind the glass. Before he had craned his neck just to catch a glimpse of the grander image. He spoke too, words that could be distinguished even slightly muffled by the glass. "You haven't changed at all. How come?" He'd been unable to answer. Not for lack of trying, but the moment he opened his mouth to mimic the movements of the people on the outside of the glass something thick had slid into his mouth. The substance around him not only held him in place, it prevented him from communicating. On that day he learned not only time, but regret. He could not speak with this boy.

The third time the boy visited was near what he would later think of as the end, right before things began to change. He'd grown up now-his hair was wilder than it had been before but the rich colors proved it was the same boy, and when he spoke his vocal cords hummed with a deeper pitch. "You still haven't changed in these years. And though its to be my kingdom I can't find out what you are." The boy-man?-touched his fingers to the glass, and from the other side he fought to do the same. His pitifully fragile arms were easily restrained by the tubes that kept him alive. On that day he learned not only maturity, but sorrow.

When the boy's third visit had come and gone he began to piece together the life around him. Beings, people, were at first young and small. They smiled and radiated a special quality that was similar to his own. Then they grew larger, nobler, or perhaps just wiser. Had the people who kept him alive been small once too? Strangely these creatures all appeared fundamentally similar in the make of their bodies, though he had heard the men speak of a different kind of form. So, there were then two kinds of people. And as time passed they grew and changed. Why then did he remain stagnate? He could not remember changing at all in the time the boy had grown, nor did he remember being small. He had always, from his first thought, been built in a similar way to the boy who had visited him most recently. Why was he different? Were all people not born this way? The questions burned in his brain. He wanted out, he wanted answers. But the construction of his cell and the build of his body prevented him from seeking out his answers.

It was, by his estimation, a short time later that he was given his chance. The men had been talking with increased fervor and agitation, about war, an event that he gathered involved the killing of other people to obtain a goal. Killing he knew only as a technical term, but it seemed to upset his caretakers greatly. A short time after this deafening noises began to sound from above him. The ground shook and items upended themselves, chemicals spilling from their containers and onto the floor. A new feeling began to grow in his chest, one that he lacked a name for-his heart raced, an odd taste came to his tongue, and his eyes roved back and forth while his body tried to jerk free of its prison. Something in his core was telling him to move, lest there be terrible consequences.

As he struggled the roof above him began to crack. Tiny slivers rained down, then larger chunks. One the side of his head struck the glass, resulting in a long, thin crack. The crack grew and the glass bulged outward, unable to take the weight of its contents. Before a proper reaction to it all could form he had come loose from his tubes and glass prison and was lying in a pile of the sticky liquid he'd been suspended in. The tube to his lungs had gone out with the upheaval. Panicked at the feelings of disorientation he tried to think of what to do. What had he seen the others do? Tentatively he opened his mouth and drew in,, then out. His mind began to clear almost instantly. Was that really all? How simple. But in a few moments the darkness dimmed the edges of his vision; he inhaled again. So then, he would have to do this constantly? What a chore humanity was turning out to be!

The feeling in his chest was still propelling him to get away. He attempted to push himself up only to slip down again in the slime. His muscles were mercifully not atrophied, but he lacked the knowledge of how to make them function. Something no his back flexed, something he hadn't noticed before. Soft objects no bigger than his head protruded near each shoulder. He lacked the word for it, but no matter. Perhaps they were his key out? Experimentally he thought towards them-_move_! The complied, much to his astonishment, but the movement was sluggish and difficult. The sticky mess had made them heavy and useless. Was this as far as his quest for answers was meant to go? The ceiling continued to crack, freeing a piece of material large enough to crush him. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth to draw breath at least once more and then-nothing.

-----

Things were going well. Far better than he'd expected from the haggard group he'd charmed conned, and threatened into aiding him. By all rights he should be doing what all masterminds did at this point: brag, gloat, and generally allow his best laid plans to go to hell while he did so. But someone like him was smarter than that, at least partly from experience. The palace would bounce back from this, and there would most assuredly be a counter attack if they stayed around. No, no was the time to hide away and plan for a second blow while the king's forces were crippled. That was the way, yes. He chuckled. "Move out!"

"Hey, Bakura! Wait a minute, we found something!" His second-in-command (only so for lack of a more competent replacement) was waving him over. It was an area that had disturbed his senses when they had snuck through it; almost a mile into dense jungle and yet this area was strangely clear, almost deliberately set to look like a naturally clearing. Too natural. It made sense now to Bakura's appraising eyes. The ground had collapsed in some areas to reveal a massive underground cavern filled with strange equipment. His second had moved from the open air down into the opening nearest to them. One thing Bakura would say, he wasted no time.

He leaned over the hole, calling down with practiced impatience. "What the hell is so important that its getting in the way of our escape? It had better be the king's corpse."

"it's a person. At least, I think it's a person. They've got wings on their back." Malik, second in command to one Bakura, King of thieves, crawled up the rope he'd dropped, the body draped awkwardly over his shoulder. "Its got wings on its back though." He laid the body down on the grass, brushing away the slime it had been lying in with a shudder of disgust. "Doesn't look like its breathing." Malik leaned over, pulling a mirror from one of the many compartments in his garb to check for breath.

Bakura shoved him away, leaning over the body himself. It was completely nude other than the thick slime, leaving no doubt as to gender. But aside from that the boy's features were soft and feminine, his bone structure too delicate to support him well. So weak and frail, but there was no mistaking the wings. Bakura whistled low. "Well I'll be damned. You did something right for once palace brat. Bring it." He stood, then kneeled again with a look of consideration. "No. I'll do it I think." He slung the body over his shoulder. This could be good. This could be the second wave he needed to bring the kingdom crashing down around that pompous king's ears.

One didn't get to be the king of anything without having an excellent ear for the goings on of the world, especially the underground. Bakura had heard of a group who had argued the use of magic in an increasingly modern age, opting instead for science to protect the kingdom. This much was a proven fact. The former king had dismissed their ideas, and from there the story got sketchy. There were rumors aplenty, and the one that seemed most common was that those same men had gone ahead with their plans to win this war the thief had started with science, with the perfect death machine borne not of a mother's womb but the cold genius of machines. When brought to perfection, it was whispered, this hell raiser would be unleashed upon the thief and his army and victory would be ensured. A Second Coming, the religious liked to call it, of man's own making. Bakura had never believed such talk, but still he had listened. An lo and behold, his own supposed downfall had been delivered into his arms to defeat the king! This was a day for celebration.

"You're planning something." Malik kept up easily as the two fled on foot. It was understood that the rest would find their way back to the base of their own volition, or they would perish. "You've got that pleased look in your eyes. What's so special about a dead body?" Malik was certainly a worthy asset, with knowledge of the kingdom's layout and workings from one end to the other, but he had no ear for rumors. He had laid the groundwork for the whole attack, but he lacked the skills to understand the treasure he'd found. Still, Bakura was in a good enough mood to humor him.

"This is the key to our victory." He explained in an offhand manor. "And don't be so sure that its dead." The boy was clearly not finished, though he radiated power. Behind that power was innocence, and innocence could be shaped, molded, and manipulated. He sped up, losing Malik in the dank gloom of the surroundings, eager to return home to test his latest theory.

---

"Damn it!" The High Priest pounded the table, veins popping out in alarming abundance on his forehead. "How? How does he always know? Every detail, every corner, no matter how we improve the security he keeps getting through. And we're finally paying for it." He pointed an accusing finger at the captain of the guard. "Its your fault! You have shoddy training and no control of your men. The Thief will be the death of us all and the blame will be yours and yours alone."

"What's that supposed to mean?" The captain in question stood, though he was still unable to match the priest's height. "Isn't it your job to protect the king? Your magic is a lousy substitute for fighting experience, and your personality is unbearable. If anything, _you're _going to cost us this war!" Though they were seated on opposite sides of the table the captain and the priest still managed to grab hold of each other's shirts, brown eyes and blue eyes competing in a battle of the wills.

"Gentlemen, enough! I called you two here to talk about our course of action, not to watch you bicker like two children." The king was not one to start fights, but always he had been able to end them.. He sat at the head of the table. "This is a War room. That means against our enemies, not against each other. Are we clear?" He glanced at each of them, waiting for ascent.

"Yes, your Highness." The priest bit our reluctantly, taking a graceful seat. He managed to shoot the captain one last glare before the king gave one of his own. Purple eyes lacked the intensity to glare, but the king somehow managed to pull it off.

"Yeah, sure." The captain sat reluctantly back down. Not because it was the king he was addressing, but because it was his friend. Jonouchi had never been much for authority, and that was why he riled at the commands from the high priest. Not only was he a person in a position of authority, he acted like a cocky bastard.

"_As_ I was going to say before you two started in, we have a lot of reconstruction to do in the wake of this latest attack. I imagine the thief will attack then. We need to be ready when he gets here." Atemu drummed his fingers on the wooden table. This had all been fine when the battle was between the thief and himself, but he could not allow it to involve his people.

"I've been putting the guards through a new set of training, something that Honda picked up from another army's style. Beyond that, we can only try to keep improving and stay a step ahead." Jonouchi shrugged. In his position there was only so much he could do. He led bodyguards, not soldiers. Most of them had never seen a true war before the attack today.

"My white mages are learning spells of protection. With any luck we'll be able to create a shield large enough to protect both the palace and the city." Knowing his news was superior, Seto smirked at Jonouchi. It had been a case of one-upmanship since the day they'd met. Not even a war would change that.

Atemu lifted his head slightly. "That is good news. When is the soonest you expect you'll have results?"

"Within a few weeks at most." Seto glanced at Jonouchi. _Ha, I win_. "Although I do have two students who are making considerable progress. One is a white mage, named…Yuugi, I believe?"

Jonouchi bristled. That was a dirty trick. Everyone who had worked for the king knew that he had a soft spot for the young mage. It meant the conversation was destined to turn in that direction and that Jonouchi had, again, lost the argument. He really had to convince Yuugi to join the guard.

Atemu stood. "Right. I want to hear from both of you by the end of the week on your progress. Until then, I have some business to attend to." He left the room, shutting the doors behind him.

The priest and the captain shared a look. There was the one thing that they could agree on: 'I have business' could always be translated as 'I'm going to see Yuugi'.

---

This was a delicate operation, and for once the Thief King was unsure of how to proceed. Normally trusting his hunches had ended well, his intuition being keener than most. But in such a situation as this following his normal course of action could result in disaster. Think this through as though it were a plan in itself. He'd lain the boy out on his own bed, having no other space to put him-when one was a wanted criminal one didn't bother with space or the keeping of many personal effects. Anything worth stealing could be kept on the body or stored somewhere of less importance. "I could have Malik work on you-the palace brat has some mage training. Though with his talent he might kill you permanently." He paced back and forth within the narrow chamber. It wasn't insanity that had him speaking out loud, though there was little doubt that he was insane. It served as a simpler way to organize his thoughts. "I could place you out in a lightning storm, let you recover on your own, or-" Was it whispering to him? He whirled to face the body. No, it was as breathless as when they'd found it. He was sure that he'd heard something. Maybe just the voices in his mind, the ever present whisperings for bloodshed and revenge.

__

Help me…This time he was sure it had come from the boy. Far from superstitious, Bakura's first thought was that it had been a whisper, something his ears had managed to pick up after years of creeping around graves. That it had sounded in his mind was the last considerable option. "Hey." He nudged the body, probing with his fingertips. "If you're alive then answer me." Nothing. Not even the slightest twitch. He dug his fingers into the boy's scalp, lifting him part way off the bed by his long white hair. "Answer me, dammit!"

__

Hurry…The urgency in the whisper acted as a palpable force weighing the room down. Bakura's grip on the boy slipped as he struggled to stay upright. This was ridiculous. He was going to suffocate under this weight; there was no air left to breathe. "Brat…what are you doing…?" In the midst of his staggering attempts to stand he'd ended up half sprawled over the body, his face close to the boy's. A thought was worrying at the back of his mind. An insane thought, with absolutely no chance of success. He was not a mage, he couldn't transfer life into this boy. But if the pressure got any heavier…"Fine. It can't make him any more dead." He pressed his lips over the boy's, opening his mouth to transfer his own breath to the other.

Three things happened simultaneously. The pressure evaporated, which gave Bakura the chance to move away from the body, which had begun to jerk in the manner of a seizure. The eyes were open, staring unseeingly into space. Bakura shivered. This could well turn out to be more trouble than it was worth. The twitching was beginning to die down, reduced to the occasional jerk every so often. He would have to check the body again. The one time when he actually needed Malik to do something for him and he was on his own.

He paused with only a small distance between them, observing. And the boy opened his eyes.

---

__

Where am I? He tried to speak it, unsuccessfully. Sound was beyond his lungs and exhausted body, so he settled for staring plaintively at the man nearest to him. Even after the whole 'I don't know where or when I am' message was as across as it was going to get he couldn't help staring. This man was so different from anything he'd ever seen. The men who'd taken care of him had been pale and dark haired, with an almost sickly air about them. The boy who'd visited him had had darker skin, but it still hadn't prepared him for this. The man crouching by his side, wearing a look that said that he was not at all sure what the creature lying there was either. _He's no help to me then. I'd better move on… _But he couldn't move, nor could he stop staring. This man was built differently than the boy, thicker. Muscle, that was what it was. He could see it clearly beneath the flesh of the man's chest, the way it formed the shape in front of him. But the face caught his attention most of all. He had hair the same color as the jackets the men had worn, wild and unkempt. There was a long and jagged scar under one of the man's eyes. And what eyes! A kind of red that seemed like…blood. He'd seen blood once. It was a brighter shade, but the feeling he got from it was the same. This man burned from head to foot with an emotion he couldn't place. He'd never felt it before, but he could feel a piece of it within himself. He could feel a piece of the man's energy fueling his own body. Distantly he realized that the man had been questioning him. Where did he come from, did he know what he was, how he got here? So many questions that seemed like the ones he wanted to ask. Perhaps the two of them could look for the answers, help each other out? He supposed he ought to try again to answer. "Ryou." It was a name he'd heard used, seen on a shard of glass from his cell before he'd blacked out. The answer came out breathy but audible.

The man settled back, frowning. "Can you move at all?" He-Ryou, he supposed-shook his head. That was as much exertion as he could take.

The man frowned harder, then gripped his shoulder tightly, turning Ryou over on his side. By craning his neck Ryou could see the outlines of the objects on his back-one light and one dark. The dark seemed to be larger than it had been before. Enough that he could see the shape of it clearly from over the light colored one nearest him. "Wha-?" He tried to say, only able to produce the first syllable.

The man made a noise low in his throat, staring at the shapes. "Looks as though I'm more a mage than I thought. Those rumors didn't say much about your power. I'll have to observe, see what happens. If the black one is the only thing that changed you must absorb only the kind of power that your victim can give. Very interesting." With a carefulness Ryou hadn't expected the man placed him on his back, knowledgeable enough to position him without pressure to the shapes on his back. "I'll have to test my theory soon. Stay still." He ordered Ryou, leaning over him. Ryou felt a pull in his chest, as well as the feeling that had plagued him while his birthplace collapsed. The man was right before his face, pressing their lips together.

Odd, Ryou had time to think, before a kind of instinct took over. He could feel the burning he'd seen around the man flowing into him through his mouth, and he raised his thin arms to hold them close together. Whatever happened, he had to keep this flow coming in, even if it felt as though his insides were being torn asunder.

"Enough!" Bakura pulled away from him, fearful. Yes, fear was the name of the emotion that made his heart beat fast and his mind search for escape, and this man was Bakura, a master thief. Ryou pondered these two pieces of information. He hadn't known them before; it seemed that they'd drifted in with the flow of energy. Now that the link was broken Ryou felt a burning sensation at his back. The energy was concentrating itself on the dark shape on his back. He screamed and rolled onto the floor with a thunk so that the thing had room to grow and change. A wing, the newfound information said. Those things were wings. He felt it change until the power had drifted there in its entirety. It flapped weakly, then began to shrink to a more manageable size. When the two wings were again of equal size the pain began to dim, and he realized he'd been clutching them hem of Bakura's cloak, whimpering. Bakura was staring down at him with the oddest glittering in his eyes. "This is very interesting." An errant hand stroked Ryou's hair as he thought. "You're just what I need. An angel of death." He laughed, and chills went down Ryou's spine.

Bakura rose, shaking Ryou off of him. Terror stricken, Ryou only clutched harder to the material. Whatever happened, no matter how much Bakura scared him, it seemed a far worse fate for them to be separated. "Stay." He whimpered. This world was still very new to him, and he didn't want to face it alone, without that burning fire.

Bakura raised an eyebrow, leaning down to pry Ryou's fingers from his cloak. "Relax, brat, Ryou, whatever you are. I'll come back. I have a theory that I need to test out." His voice lowered from an almost genial tone to a growl. "Let go." Ryou withdrew his fingers. Bakura glanced back at him. "Oh, and we'll be needing to get you some clothes." Ryou looked down at his body, pale and unadorned. People did seem to wear things over themselves. It must be unusual, how he was sitting. Heat rose to his face, and Bakura laughed. "Just stay put." He swung open the door to face a surprised blonde man.

"I was wondering where the hell you went." He peered over Bakura's shoulder at Ryou. "Its not dead?" He seemed shocked. Had Ryou died? Everything had blacked out with that rock. He jus couldn't remember. The expression passed quickly enough. He pointed an accusing finger at Bakura. "What the hell did you do?"

Bakura took it all in stride, completely ignoring the blonde. "Malik, better late than never I suppose." He pulled him in by the shoulder, pointing at Ryou. "Watch him. I'll be back." Then he was gone, leaving Ryou staring up at the blonde man with heat still burning in his face. Their thoughts both came out at the same time.

"Who are you?"

---

Next Time: Malik explains the basics of humanity to Malik (exhibit A: Why is Bakura such an asshole?), as Bakura looks for victims to carry out his theory. Meanwhile, Atemu and his court struggle to uncover what's been going on beneath their noses all along.

Read, Review, all that jazz.


	2. Overture

Disclaimer: Yugioh belongs to Kazuki Takahashi. I own only the ideas in my brain, and even those belong to the voices…

---

Awkward silences are something that all people, in every time place, discovered and undiscovered dimensions, strive to avoid. They have a way of choking the life out of a space, thus forcing out inane conversation just to make it stop. Even Ryou, who had only his own scant observed knowledge and what he had mysteriously absorbed from Bakura, felt it. So he spoke, trying to connect to the only thing he was at the moment familiar with. "Do you know Bakura?"

Malik looked at him, apparently startled that what had seemingly dead body could not only move and speak, but speak comprehensively as well. He hid it before the expression could linger on his face. Expressions could get a man killed in his line of work. "Sure, I know him. He's the most conniving bastard that ever walked the face of the earth, and he's scary (not to mention crazy) as hell. But he's powerful, and it suits my ends, so-" He glared at Ryou. "How do _you_ know him? In the entire time I've known him he's never given out his name so soon. Ask half a dozen of his 'loyal' followers, and they'll give you half a dozen names for their 'thief king'. What's so special about you?" He made as if to pull Ryou closer by the collar, realizing halfway that there was nothing to pull. Malik settled for gripping his shoulder.

Ryou felt the faint fluttering of fear in his chest. Would this strange person hurt him? His response was halting and broken. "H-he told me. When he woke me up." In Ryou's mind the exchange _had _been verbal. It was far easier to comprehend. Malik frowned at him, clearly unsatisfied with the answer. Ryou tried to expand. "He, uh, he," He fumbled for the word, "did something to wake me up. I don't know…the word. But he gave me," pause "magic, his magic. That's how I learned his name." Just mentioning that burning magic he felt it stir in him. It gave him a new boldness, enough to pick Malik's hand off his shoulder. "Don't touch me." Malik drew back, and Ryou found himself oddly pleased at the brief flash of expression before the blank face returned. The magic settled back to its hiding place within him, and he was the one who was afraid.

This was all too much for Malik. He'd assessed the boy, corpse, whatever it was now, to be an innocent to be used. But, he'd acted like Bakura. They'd even appeared to share the same eyes. Creepy. If what this kid said was true, then there was a piece of the thief watching him all the time. Just when he'd get a little reprieve. Even if it did mean babysitting. He crossed his fingers behind his back and hoped the shift was a one time occasion. The magic settling in. "Let's start over. If I have to follow you around we'd better be on speaking terms. I'm Malik." He put out his hand.

"I'm Ryou. I think." He stared at the hand, unsure what Malik wanted him to do. Malik rolled his eyes and grabbed Ryou's hand in his own. Ryou looked at his hand after Malik released it, looking for evidence of some kind of ritual. Nothing.

This was going to take longer than he'd thought. The best, and easiest, course would be to cover what he didn't have to teach Ryou. "Can you at least tell me what you do know?" Blank face was still in its place, but Malik could feel a small and uncontrollable vein in his temple, twitching.

Ryou watched the little vein pulse and jump, unable to keep a smile from surfacing. How interesting. The longer he waited to respond, the larger the vein got. He reached for it with one of his hands, wanting to see how the movement felt beneath his fingertips. Malik slapped his hand away, leaving a small red mark on the pale white skin. Ryou flinched. "What's this?" He asked, referring to the shooting, hot feeling in his hand.

"Probably pain." Malik muttered. He should've known better than to think that that bastard would give him an easy assignment. "I'll kill him when he gets back here." He muttered.

This was getting nowhere. Malik must have some answers that he could give Ryou, just beyond reach. Then Ryou would ask. He took a deep breath, wanting to ask a million things at once, and unsure of where to start. "Where am I? What is this place? Why am I here? Why is it that you act one way, and that Bakura acts another, and the boy acted another, and you all look so different?" He inhaled again, ready to keep going for hours. Malik held up his hands.

"One thing at a time! First you don't say anything and then you have a million questions." Malik took a deep breath of his own. "I can't tell you where we are exactly. I'd have to kill you, so you couldn't tell anybody else then. But its where you'll be staying for a while-the thieves' hideout, if you will. And keep this in your head: if anyone but Bakura or me tries to take you anywhere, you'd better die before you let them. I won't let this whole operation go down in flames because of one of Bakura's crazed hunches. And that's the only reason you're here: because Bakura thinks you're useful. If I were you," he leaned towards Ryou and said with a conspirator's whisper "I'd make sure he keeps thinking that. Otherwise you'll be as dead as you were when we found you." Ryou was nodding very quickly, almost literally absorbing the words as they left Malik's mouth in his usual charismatic cadence. The last question Malik hesitated in answering. How did you explain why people did what they did? He voiced his own thought process as best he could. "I guess…people act like they do because of what they want, and where they've been. For instance, Bakura is a complete an utter asshole because he has to be. If he had a heart he couldn't slaughter so many people to achieve his ends."

Ryou interrupted him. "What about the other thing you said, where he's been? What does that mean?"

Malik shrugged. Bakura never spoke about his past, and Malik never asked. They kept to an alternating state of respect and hatred for each other. The delicate balance stayed balanced because they knew very little about each other. "Where you've been is your past. You're a naïve brat because you don't know any better, see? Where you go will change who you are, good or bad." He'd learned that lesson well. It was hard to remember a day when he hadn't been able to manipulate people as puppets, but it must have existed. "You get it?"

Ryou blinked. Once, twice, three times. "Not really. But I think I know how I could." He closed his eyes and concentrated, seeking out the out of body feeling that had allowed him to absorb Bakura's magic into his body along with his memory. The feeling brushed the edge of his consciousness time and again, just out of reach.

Frustrated, Ryou opened his eyes again. "Oh." Malik's aura was in front of him now. Before it had been in the background of his person, there but unimportant. Now it was almost all that Ryou could see. It had a burning look to it, but it was different. The anger was cold, calculated. The lavender color was the same as Malik's eyes. Eyes are the windows to the soul…when had Ryou heard that saying? Beneath the lavender Ryou could see the flickering spark of a white light, fighting to stay burning in the cold. The light called to him, small as it was, blocking out the practiced aura around it. This was what he'd been made to do, a voice in the deepest part of him whispered. To take in powerful magic as his own. Ryou rose on his knees, gripping Malik's forearms to hold him still. Very far away Malik was struggling, yelling for him to get away. It was far off enough that Ryou was undeterred, pressing his mouth over Malik's as Bakura had done to him. The small white light came toward him in his mind's eye, but if he did that-

"What the he-" Malik had stopped struggling when his air supply was cut off. Stop, plan, think of a smarter way to get away. This was just a kid holding him down, probably younger than Malik. But his grip was damn strong for a kid's. Think harder, you learned what to do. The world was hazing around the edges, and he felt detached. Cold. It was making it at once harder to think and far simpler. If he wanted Ryou off, he'd have to kill him. Why hadn't that thought occurred to him. Carefully he leaned back, preparing to surprise the boy-

Ryou urged the magic back as fast as he could. He didn't like the coldness that was enveloping the two of them. But, if he could take it out, could he make it grow? Was there a part of him with that power? Carefully he took stock of his mind: there was the stirrings of Bakura's magic, a side of his mind shrouded in shadow; there were the dregs of Malik's light, the hope that he'd felt before leaving his 'home'; there! A blissful emptiness, as though his mind wasn't finished. He called on it, coaxing it down with his breath into Malik's body, trying to breathe the spark of white magic into something less faint. A few seconds of fervid breathing produced no effect. No, there. The white spark had grown the smallest bit, glowing enough to be seen without staring hard enough to risk a headache. Coming back to himself, Ryou felt Malik's muscles slacken under his hands. People needed to breathe, right?. He needed to breathe, right? That would explain his heart beating with enough force to escape his chest. He drew back from Malik's lips. "That was strange." He touched his lips. "That wasn't at all what it was like with Bakura." Not at all. There had been fire with Bakura, excitement. Malik just felt, safe, for lack of a better word. Comforting.

Malik twitched, having recovered enough breath to question Ryou's sanity. "You did that to _Bakura? _And you're not missing an arm? Or a leg? Or your head?" Malik wasn't stupid, of course. Bakura wasn't exactly a man above earthly desires, but this, this was not a usual thing for him. Usually he picked someone, slept with them, and then killed them so as to diminish the risk of witnesses. Insane, ruthless, but always practical. "The world is ending. There's no other possible explanation." Malik ran a hand through his hair, then let it drop to his chest. "Ugh." In the commotion Malik had forgotten the slime. Disgusting stuff.

Awkward, a voice in Ryou's head whispered. Awkward? What-oh. He bit back the comment on the tip of his tongue. It hadn't been his doing before, but Bakura's. Somehow he didn't think Malik would believe him. "More thoughts." He would have to be careful who he touched. His head was already beginning to feel cluttered from the overload in such a short period of time. He watched Malik, trying to absorb every miniscule detail. He was going to learn, and to pass for normal on top of that. He ran his fingers through his own hair, finding it stick and sticky. Malik's had felt awfully soft by comparison. He suddenly wanted very much to be clean of this gunk. Was that his thought or Malik's? "Is there any way that I can make my hair soft like yours?" Clean was the word, but it hurt his head to try and comprehend all the new information. Baby steps, baby steps.

Malik stood. "Right." He adjusted his tunic, unsure why he was nervous. Other than Ryou seemed to be reading his mind. Hadn't he thought about a bath moments before the k-the weirdness? Better not to think of it as a kiss. Ryou didn't seem to understand the implications of what had happened anyway. "But you understand that you can't go outside like that right?" He eyed Ryou, his eyes very pointedly keeping above waist level. It made it easier to think of Ryou as the sexless brat he acted like. _Pure thoughts, pure thoughts. This was why you left in the first place, remember? _He shed his tunic, tossing it to Ryou. "This should cover you until we get down to the river." Ryou eyed the garment blankly, unsure of it. After a few seconds an unnerving understanding filled his eyes, and he was able to slip it over his head, tugging it down past his hips. As if Ryou had to wait for something else to tell him what the clothing was, and what to do with it. Bakura would pay for this. "Come on." He turned Ryou around by the shoulder, nudging him towards the door. "Don't talk to anyone you see, keep your head down, and no matter what you stick with me." Ryou was off again, doing that bizarre nodding. Malik sighed. "The treasure isn't worth this."

---

"I'll think about it, I promise!" No good. Those fierce eyes were still staring at him. He did hate to disappoint people, being of the mind that people were just friends one hadn't made yet. He dug in the satchel at his side, producing a small slip of paper. "Would it help if I gave you one of my charms?" Small magics were something he was particularly good at. Luck, love, things that didn't serve one terribly well in the middle of a war. His best skill, games, was completely without merit. "I'm not really the kind of person you want as a warrior anyway. I'm no good at black magic. Ask Mana. She'll tell you that I'm hopeless." He smiled apologetically. Out of the corner of his eyes he caught something sparkling and gold. "I need to get back to my studies. Seto really wants me to learn the spell. Okay, Jonouchi?" He smiled.

The glint of gold hadn't been lost on Jonouchi's soldier eyes. He grinned. He was weird, quiet, and his 'friendship' with the king at times made Jonouchi uneasy, but Yuugi was still his very good friend. Protecting someone for most of you mutual childhoods created an inexplicable bond. He tussled Yuugi's hair. "Right. Enjoy your studying." He paused at the curtains by the door long enough to whisper "You can come out now." Then he was gone.

Atemu, supposed king of the nation when not hiding out behind curtains, stepped out wearing a flustered expression. Yuugi waved to him, patting the place next to him that Jonouchi had so recently vacated. Atemu complied, with the grace and dignity befitting a king. Even one in love. He cleared his throat, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. Once upon a time there hadn't been tension like this between them, when they'd first met. Yuugi had shared his love of games when there hadn't been much time for them in the king's life, and more than that he was good at them. That was how it had started anyway. Atemu had found himself seeking the small mage out, helping him with basic magic (which he had reluctantly studied at his tutor's insistence) and playing as many games as their brains could dream up. Before long Atemu found the hours slipping away. He would go for a quick game and look up to find that the sun had fallen and he was helping an exhausted Yuugi to bed. He would have traded his kingdom for that smile, he realized. And what's more his court knew it. Some found it amusing, some condemned it as an unworthy pastime when he should be seeking a queen to bear his heir, and some (like Jonouchi) just smiled along for Yuugi's sake and his. They thought he would grow out of it, that it was an adolescent weakness. And the more Atemu had mulled it over, the more it came to him-this was neither going to go away nor lessen. And Yuugi seemed oblivious to the situation and the implications. Hence, awkward silences. Not always silent, always awkward.

Yuugi tugged the fabric of Atemu's cape, jerking him from his pensive silence. "Is something the matter? Have things gotten worse?"

One day he and Yuugi would have a talk about this thorny matter of 'feelings', but not today. Today his country was at war, sections of his palace were in shambles, and his country was terrified. He needed to believe that there was an unspoken but shared affection. "No, if anything things are better. The rebuilding is going well enough, and Seto and Jonouchi are doing all that they can to fortify our defenses."

"Still no word on Bakura then." Yuugi said sadly. The infamous thief's rampages had left Yuugi homeless, his family and possession gone in a blaze of flames. If not for Jonouchi Yuugi would have joined them. He didn't bring the thief up often, but it appeared doggedly in enough of their dialogues that Atemu knew the question was rarely far from Yuugi's mind.

Atemu shook his head. "Nothing. Not even a witness that he was there on the day of the attack." But then everyone knew who masterminded the actual battles. And there'd been plenty of witnesses to the traitor's presence. Atemu forced the thought away. If he let himself become angry it would only upset Yuugi further. Instead he switched subjects. "Seto tells me you're working on a spell of protection."

Yuugi nodded, pointing at the large stacks of scrolls and books nearly engulfing him. "I haven't been having much luck though. I don't have enough power to shield this room, let along the palace, or the city. Seto expects more out of me than I can give." He laid his head on his arms. "I know I shouldn't give up, but-"

"I'm sure that you'll manage it. Have a little faith, Yuugi. Where's the eternal optimist I know and" love "who became my friend." He finished lamely. The conversation might have to come sooner than he expected. He laid his hand on Yuugi's head. "But everyone needs a break now and again." The shadows under Yuugi's eyes were dark purple as he glanced at the king. "As your ruler, I hereby order you to sleep and have fun until tomorrow, regardless of what Seto might say." He smiled.

Yuugi smiled back at him, transferring his tired head from his own arms to the one Atemu had resting on the table. "Would you mind if I took a nap here?"

Atemu blinked. "Of course not. I-" Which is, given luck, when the door slammed open and Seto stormed in.

"Your highness!" Seto was brandishing a thick set of papers in one hand, which he slammed onto the desk (much to Atemu's chagrin). Seto gave Yuugi a disapproving look, as if silently asking what on earth his apprentice was doing sleeping at a time like this. "These papers were found in an old study. It looks as if they're plans of some sort."

Curious despite himself, Atemu nudged the papers with his free hand so that they were spread and all visible on the table. Many of the pages were illegible shorthand, but a few showed sketches-a sexless human being with wings protruding from its back. More shorthand accompanied the drawings, with occasional arrows. He looked up at Seto. "Is there any way to decipher this, or have you disturbed me for useless drawings." His anger had found a simple transfer, and he used it with enthusiasm.

Seto was unruffled. He pointed one long finger at the writing nearest the drawings. "These, at least, we've made some progress on. There doesn't seem to be enough of a pattern to the writing to understand it all, but these" again the drawings "are the prototypes for a war machine. An android if you will, made from magic and human hands."

A memory surfaced, faint and somewhat out of focus. "Seto." The memory was comer more clearly to him, enough that he could make out details. "Are there still tunnels under this palace?"

Seto nodded. "Some of them collapsed in the attack, but the basic structure is still intact. If I may ask, your Highness-"

Atemu cut him off, very gently moving Yuugi so that he could stand. "When I was a child I got lost in those passageways. It was hours before the guards were able to finds me, and I wouldn't have been the first that they didn't find." Seto nodded. He remembered the story. Hadn't he tried to persuade the king-to-be into staying out of the underground, at the risk of losing his way? Atemu continued. "Before my time there was out I stumbled on an enormous room full of strange machines." He glanced at the drawings. "There was a boy there that looked like that." He picked up the topmost drawing, studying it closely. "Exactly like that in fact. I returned twice, once two years later and another time scarcely two years ago. He hadn't changed a bit. No, that's not right. His body was unchanged, but there was a kind of knowing in his eyes. Those eyes got older every time I saw him."

Seto fought to keep his composure. If this thing had truly existed, if it was still there, the war would be over in a matter of days! The plans were dated shortly after the Thief King's attacks had increased in intensity. A measure specifically for that purpose then? "Your Highness! Can you lead me to this room?"

Atemu nodded. "I can."

---

No matter how careful the King of Thieves tried to be in matters of stealth, it seemed there was always a body left behind. Someone who had the terrible misfortune of seeing his face, or simply a follower who had crossed him at the wrong moment in time. It would be simpler, he reasoned, if he were just to kill the boy. If the rumors were correct (as they had been up until now on this particular subject) the boy was created specifically to destroy him. Having such a creature around, even as incomplete as he appeared to be, was a danger. "I'll do it when I get back."

On the other hand, if he managed to turn this power to his own advantage then it would make his conquest of the kingdom a thousand times less difficult. He would have the leisure time to kill the King himself. The boy already seemed to be devoted to him. If nothing else he would serve as a shield. "I'll keep him on a little longer."

He'd been prowling the streets of a small village, far enough outside of the city that few would be able to recognize his face. If Bakura's hunch was right, then he would need to find a mage. Preferably an untrained one, something that no one would miss. Ryou had absorbed some of Bakura's own shadow magic, and had changed, grown stronger from it. But what would happen if he were given a soul to drain completely, to the point of death? Someone gifted with white magic, better yet. He couldn't give unlimited power to someone who was not himself. There was no way of knowing when betrayal would come. People were puppets, he'd decided long ago. Use them as needed, break them, but never grow attached to them. Above all never trust them. "Damn. I should have brought the palace brat with me."

The plan when he had left had been to find someone with untapped magic. The unplanned part of the theory was his own limited abilities at sensing the magic of others. His own strength lent in his spirit creature, and with basic manipulation. It was the brat who was charismatic enough to convince someone to follow them willingly. Bakura would never admit it, upon pain of death, but the two's talents complemented each other. "I give up." Not the faintest glow from any of these mundane souls. He was wasting his time. He turned on his heel and headed for the forest, pausing at an abandoned campfire on the skirts of the village.

He passed a huddled group of villagers, whispering in the lowest of voices. "Have you heard? The king is putting up a barrier. That will surely keep the thief out."

The woman across from him snorted. "They're relying on a mage scarcely more than a boy, I hear. We're in more danger, if anything."

Interesting. Very interesting. He knew his next destination now, for that he was grateful. But his intended goal had alluded him, and this was a vexation. Let it never be said that the Thief King was not a vindictive and malcontent soul. He scooped ashes into his hand, hissing as his skin sizzled under it. With all the care of a practiced arsonist he spread them at the base of the nearest house. Every building was made of wood or grass, all of them close together. This place was a tinderbox. The only witness would later whisper that as the flames grew he'd seen a cloaked figure, emitting a bone chilling, maniacal laugh.

---

Ryou was staring at everything, a habit first cute and then excruciatingly annoying. Malik was sure he'd left bruises on the boy's arm from getting his to keep up. "Ryou, do you want to take a bath or not?"

"Just a minute. There's so much to see." He'd stopped again, turning in a small circle to take in the whole of the grungy thieves' village. "I wanted to learn the ways of the world. That's what I'm doing." For someone so clueless he had a surprising stubbornness. "I can't learn everything just taking it out of your mind."

It was a grungy village full of murderers and wanted men. What was so exciting? Malik's fingers worked at his forehead-there was a headache on its way here, sooner rather than later. "Oy, Malik, who's your friend?" Those voices. Oh the day was just getting better. He grabbed Ryou's hand, trying to get out as quickly as possible. Bad move. He could feel the smirks growing behind him.

Tugging futilely on Ryou's arm (clearly he didn't understand the danger that they were in), he smiled at the ambushers, not even bothering to disguise the fakeness of it. "Ladies, I was just on my way down to the river. If you'll excuse me."

The two girls stared at him. The smaller of the two, a brunette with dark, almost lightless eyes, was boring her eyes through him. "Who's that? I haven't seen him around before. He's got to be new. No way you'd have gotten someone so adorable if he wasn't." This, he could handle. This was the sane one. And then-the other one had to ruin everything.

Appropriately, she was a redhead, and suitably hotheaded to boot. To Malik's way of thinking, homeless or no there was a limit to such things. The redhead smirked. "What's he doing wearing your shirt?" Bad thing about being in hiding: one's clothes became trademark. Any change was sure to be noticed. "The Thief'll be jealous."

Malik shuddered. He'd done his best to kill the rumor of his and Bakura's involvement. Mind scarring was what it was. And of all people this girl knew it. But mutual hatred runs deep, and so these painful exchanges came and went. "I'll be going now." He bit off, the smile widening to a painful degree.

"You guys are going to wind up in trouble with Akefia one of these days." Lo, salvation approached! Bakura had used that particular alias only once, at least among the members of his followers that were still breathing. "If you really believe the two of them are close then we'd better watch our step, eh?" The newcomer, the odd medium between the other two in height, hair, and temperament, wrapped her arms around their waists to turn them away. She waved oh-so-slightly at Malik as the left, face a soft pink.

Malik let out a breath he didn't know that he'd been holding. Gods, the things that one put up with around here. "One of these days." He grumbled, dropping Ryou's hand. "Come on already. I don't want to have to repeat that experience.

For once Ryou did as he was bid, tagging along at Malik's heels. But, because nothing in Malik's life could ever go completely right, the questions quickly started again. "Who were they, Malik? Why did they look so different?" Perhaps that was a girl then? Ryou tried to put the abstract term to the three faces, slowing down to ponder it. "And the one was colored funny. Bright pink. Why was that, Malik?" On and on until the river came into sight. The long twining path of glittering water succeeded in shutting Ryou up. He stared at it, entranced. "Its wonderful. Sparkling." He was reminded of the glittering jewels that adorned Bakura's figure.

Malik sat on the bank, pulling off his boots. "Yeah, yeah, its wonderful. Take off my shirt, and hurry up. We can't be seen down here." This stretch of the river was the most camouflaged by far, the banks hidden by leafy trees from the prying eyes of the palace. No more than one hundred feet to either side the plants were weak and wilted as the river curled away and left them to die under the unforgiving sun. but no place was truly safe for a wanted man. He pulled off the pants next, tossing them into a pile next o his boots. "Are you ready yet?"

Ryou had the shirt folded over one arm, holding it against his chest. He had moved close enough to the water's edge that small waves lapped at those small white feet. Malik rolled his eyes. "Leave that on the bank! You'll never dry after if you let that get wet." Ryou did as he was told, stepping out of the water to lay the shirt next to the rest of Malik's clothes. He seemed amazed that Malik appeared so similar to himself. "Get in." He put a hand on Ryou's back and gave it a shove, sending the white haired boy tumbling into the water. Bubbled surfaced an burst on the water for a few seconds, then nothing. Oh gods…Malik waded in, dipping his hand into the water to pull Ryou up by his curls. "You have to breathe, idiot!"

Ryou stared up at Malik, enjoying the sensation of the icy water washing away the gunk on his skin. He felt lighter, free. But obviously there were rules to this. Ryou had felt his chest begin to burn while under the water's surface, and he noticed Malik's eyes on the surface of the water. There had to be a faster way to learn this. "Malik?"

The blonde in question looked up from his search, still flicking back to the water's surface should they be bothered by the predators that inhabited the river's waters. "What is it now?"

Ryou brushed away the last of the mess on his skin, clamping his hands over his hair to wring the water out of it. The change in movement caused him to stumble forward, the water weighting his wings and making them top-heavy. "I think I can learn more quickly if you help me out. If you could," He considered how to phrase it, since Malik didn't seem to see the same way he did. "If you could just think hard about the things you know about water. I think I can absorb it from you." It sounded unusual, even if it did make sense to him.

In his head Malik was calculating how much treasure Bakura would owe him for all of this. The number was rapidly growing higher than the blonde thief could count. He'd barely nodded when Ryou took his hand, bringing their faces close together. More kissing. There had to be a better way for Ryou to learn things. When their lips met Malik shoved memories of boats, seas, river, and crocodiles to the front of his mind. Himself as a small child nearly drowning in the very river they floated in now. At the same time he felt the unearthly detachment he'd felt in Bakura's quarters, and the smallest spreading of warmth in his chest. At least it remained in his chest, he thought fleetingly. Ryou drew back from him, confused. "What?" He asked.

"What did that mean, that last thought?" He too was now looking down at the water, unnerved by Malik's memories of hulking green creatures with razor sharp teeth. "I'm not sure I understand."

Damn. Apparently all thoughts were fair game with Ryou. He would have to be more careful. "Don't worry about it." Malik was wringing out his own hair sidestepping towards the banks. "If you're going to stay as attached to Bakura as you are now I'm sure that you'll figure it out." He grinned maliciously. On the one hand, he felt apprehensive for Ryou's innocence, both physical and mental. On the other hand, he'd be free of those rumors. "Ryou, we need to get back now." He turned his back to the river, stumbling into his clothes.

"I'll be there in a second." Ryou tried to reach for the wings on his back, frustrated with the lopsided feeling it gave him. If he could get the water from his hair, then theoretically his wings should work the same way. Ryou smiled to himself, pleased with how much easier it was to string together logic and thoughts the more Malik helped him. His arms weren't quite long enough to reach the feathered tips, and he became engrossed in the impossible task. Enough to ignore the sliding black shadow behind him.

Malik wrestled his boots on, gathering the shirt for Ryou. "I'm not going to let Bakura kill me just because you're so damnably stubborn!" Still, it was endearing, in a way, to watch the innocent trying to reach his own back. He could have simply asked Malik. Amused despite himself, he settled back to watch. The shadow caught his eye as it slid up behind Ryou. Panicked, Malik started for the river. "Ryou! Move!"

A small fearful breath passed Ryou's lips as he stared at the moving shape beneath the water. From the memory he'd procured, the thing approaching him would rip him to shreds. And then, and then, "I'm not ready to die yet!" Something very strange happened. The same darkness that he'd felt trapped under that falling rock was sliding back towards him, and then there was nothing.

"Ryou!" Malik watched the boy collapse from his position on the bank. Hadn't he fainted? He could still see the white hair above the water, and something else moving beneath the water. He could see the tips of the odd wings on Ryou's back. But he shouldn't be able to see something as small as they were above the surface of the water. Were they _growing_? Malik watched in horrified wonder as the water around Ryou exploded. The walls of water that splashed up around him were colored red, with undistinguishable pieces in them. With the danger very obviously gone, Ryou was beginning to sink. Malik dove in with a yell of surprise, dragging the boy onto the bank.

He was unconscious, not moving. His wings were the proper size. But Malik was sure of what he'd seen. He'd seen Bakura do it once, make a man who had crossed him explode upon himself. Malik, of course, had been the one who had had to clean the mess. But this wasn't Bakura. Malik brushed wet strands from Ryou's eyes. Even with the water thick with blood Ryou was spotlessly clean. "What the hell _are_ you?"

---

It was dark by the time Bakura came to the collapsed laboratory. It was the very same as when he had left it. Had it been that day, the day before? Well, what did it matter. When hatred consumed you time became relative, all of it a long countdown to the moment of vengeance. Vengeance for the screams, payback for the flames, for the loss of his village. For that the King, the court, and all who's lives had touched the thief's tragedy would suffer. Insanity had set in long ago. This was no longer mere vengeance to him, it was a cause of the highest order. And besides that, a cold and empty piece of him wanted everything dead causes be damned. The boy would be his tool to that end.

In the dark it was a treacherous trip into the heart of the cavern, every boulder trembling and threatening to give way beneath the thief's feet. His bloodshed hued eyes scanned the dark, easily adjusting to the gloom. Paranoia had away of heightening the senses, and the Thief King had never known a moment without paranoia. In the dark he made out the shadows of broken glass and spilled chemicals that gave off a noxious odor. He wrinkled his nose. With this scent in the air his sense of smell was all but useless to him.

His ears strained in the dark as he padded over debris, approaching the vessel around which the entire room was centered. This was were Ryou had come from, he reasoned. The thick liquid congealing on the broken glass was proof enough of that. What else was there, then? Water was dripping from some corner of the room, but otherwise, nothing. The tension in his shoulders eased the smallest bit. Slumped over the nearest table was a body, beginning to smell in the heat. Bakura shoved it to the floor, the better to look over the table's content. Partly obscured by blood from the man's slit throat were pages of notes. Bakura eyes them. He wasn't literate, but Malik would be. Malik would be able to read what remained of these papers. Soundlessly he tucked them into his cloak.

The always whispering voices in his mind were telling him to go now. Bakura obeyed the voices, always: they were what had kept him alive through a thousand encounters with his enemies. But he found himself curious for the first time since his childhood, and unable to pull himself from the odd feeling of the room. By the time he heard footsteps it was too late to scramble for the outside. Frozen, he watched the flickering light draw closer and closer. _Hide, you idiot. Hide!_

"You are sure this is it?" The voice reverberated in the adjoining corridor. Bakura had heard that voice. It was the king's personal attendant, the most knowledgeable of his mages. But it was the voice that followed it that made Bakura's gut tighten with anticipation and panic.

"Yes, I'm sure of it. I would not forget some place so strange." Atemu rounded the corner, Seto following with a torch held high in his hand. It cast shadows around the room, illuminating the dull red fabric of Bakura's cloak. He smirked. "Oh, your _Highness._ I hadn't expected to have the chance to kill you delivered so easily into my lap! But I suppose this is a fitting tomb, eh?" He gestured grandly, his eyes flickering ceaselessly back and forth for an exit. Ryou had weakened him. He wasn't ready for this battle, not with the mage to back his enemy up. But his pride wouldn't allow him to run without a fight. The mage sneered at him. "What are you doing here, thief?"

Bakura called the center of his being, willing his spirit beast from his flesh to defend him. The hulking shape appeared behind his back, the snake-tail lying in front of Bakura as a shield. "Planning your deaths, of course." He felt, rather than saw the other two go into a defensive position, the mage muttering incantations under his breath. The battle was on.

---

Next Time: Bakura carries a losing battle against Atemu, but seems help is on the way from an unexpected source. And what about Ryou's strange and volatile powers?


	3. Duet

Special notes for this chapter: Fans of X/1999 might be able to get a jump on Malik's bizarre injuries. Then again maybe not. Its something to think about. Also, I really wanted to have Bakura a line from Scrubs, but alas, it would have been horrifically out of character. So I'll just quote it up here.

You know what people are generally? Bastards. Bastard coated bastards with bastard filling.. Dr. Cox

I feel better

Disclaimer: YuGiOh belongs to Kazuki Takahashi, and always will. I'm just borrowing the characters.

----

For reasons eh couldn't place, there was an uneasy tension in Yuugi's gut. Something bad was happening somewhere. Atemu? It had been several hours since the king had gone, and night had fallen since. But Seto was with him. And Yuugi's teacher was powerful and levelheaded if not always kind. Still, he was worried. He needed something to take his mind off of things. He needed a friend. But Jonouchi would be out on the night watch. As much as he kidded and as brashly as he acted, he was a good soldier truly devoted to the people. He wouldn't let the dark go unwatched when things were still so unstable. That only left one other person.

Slipping out from the tangle of sheets Yuugi padded down the hall, down a flight of stairs, until the sleeping quarters of his fellow mages were far behind him. None of them were truly acquainted. Seto kept them all too busy and sleep deprived for friendships to develop. That left out seeking comfort there. It had been a hard go of things. Many of the Palace's subjects refused to talk to him, though he wasn't sure why. They glared at him and the puzzle he wore around his neck. The puzzle that Atemu had given him when the attacks had become worse. _This will keep you safe, should you ever be in danger. _He'd looked so fierce that Yuugi couldn't possibly have refused the gift. It clearly was important to him. Was it somehow valuable? It was gold, yes, but no more so than any other jewelry worn by the royal court. Truthfully Yuugi had only worn it outside his room in the wake of the most recent attack. It was heavy, but it made him feel better. Another question for another day.

Outside of the room he heard the tap-tap-tap of feet keeping time, proof that Anzu was awake. He knocked gently on the wall outside the door before entering, pushing back the thick purple curtain that served as a door. There was his first friend, lost in the music that only she could hear. "Anzu?" He settled himself onto the steps that led to the lowered center of the room, experienced enough to know that he would have to wait until his friend came out of her reverie. He crossed his arms over his knees and settled his head on them, waiting. A few minutes later she returned, her fiery blue eyes surprised that Yuugi had seemingly appeared in her room. Yuugi waved slightly.

Anzu smiled, coming to sit beside him on the steps. "I haven't seen you in a while. Is everything all right?" She placed her slender hand over his, marveling at how similar in size they were. Her great skill was in comfort, and Yuugi in particular was no mystery to her. "Is Atemu all right?" She asked this with the tiniest bit of urgency in her voice. Atemu and Jonouchi were the twin pillars of Yuugi's world. Only they could cast such a long shadow on his face.

Yuugi sighed, uncrossing his arms. "I don't know." He said finally. "I have a bad feeling, but I'm not sure why." He was hesitant to tell Anzu of Atemu and Seto's conversation, and he remembered it only hazily anyway. So he only shrugged, hoping their bond would allow for some reassurance despite the lack of information.

Anzu started to do just that, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry Yuugi. I'm sure that you're worrying for nothing. Things look bad right now, but you'll see. Jonouchi told me once that they call Atemu 'The Invincible Soldier'. No one's ever been able to hurt him." She looked as if she were going to say more, but her eyes flitted over the golden puzzle around Yuugi's neck. A look of distress crossed her face for the barest second. She stood. "I'm sorry Yuugi. I have something I need to do. My dance still needs work, and," she smiled apologetically. "will you be all right?"

Yuugi nodded, standing to go. "I'm sorry that I bothered you so late. Thank you." Anzu waited until the curtain returned to stillness, and Yuugi's small shadow couldn't be seen behind it. Only then did the smallest tear escape her eyes. It had been wrong of her to hope, and to feel as unhappy as she did right now when Yuugi must be so happy. It was wrong, but it was still how she felt. She opened the curtain herself, slipping out onto the dark. Suddenly the dance wasn't so important any more. Not much was.

Her small steps broke into a run once the night sky was overhead. Anzu aimed for the most deserted place that she knew, a small rampart that gave a breathtaking view of the small town outside the walls. Despite the view it was strategically useless-soldiers became sitting ducks, with no way to quickly contact other units and thus serve as an effective watch. Yuugi had shown it to her. _"The magic is amplified here!" He'd smiled, waving a few sparks and butterflies from his fingers for her amusement. _Anzu leaned against the low wall, breathing hard and crying softly. "I tried so hard so that he'd notice me. Why didn't he notice me?"

"Hey, you're going to wake the whole castle with a sob story like that." Luckily for the person behind her the teasing was soften by a genuinely concerned voice.

"Go away Jonouchi." She wiped her eyes, deliberately keeping her back turned to him. "Can't you go just one day without bothering me?" Silently she was grateful for his brusque sense of comfort. She found it more helpful than Yuugi's sympathizing. Jonouchi had a way of making horrible things seem unimportant, easier to shake off.

Jonouchi kneeled beside her, keeping his eyes away from her face. If Anzu didn't want anyone to see her cry, far be it from him to ruin it. Especially since it had been an accident that he'd found her. "Someone like you shouldn't be up so high, you know. You'll dance right off the edge." Gently he coaxed Anzu into a sitting position, and took a place beside her. "So what _are_ you doing up here?"

"Yuugi came to see me tonight." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "He was wearing the puzzle." Another tear slid down her cheek.

Jonouchi didn't seem surprised, which struck her as odd. Wasn't this generally considered to be a surprising occurrence? She waited for him to speak. "I'm sorry Anzu. I know how you feel about the king." He said it as if that were the only matter to discuss.

She leaned over to see into his face. "But the king is supposed to give that puzzle to his betrothed! If he gave it to Yuugi, then what about an heir? What about the tradition of thousands of years?"

Jonouchi shrugged, tracing one boot along the mortar on the stone floor. "I stay happy for my friend by not thinking about it too hard. And, no offense, but I'm not really surprised."

She shot him a murderous look. "Because I'm a dancer, right? I could never possibly be good enough for Atemu because I'm nothing more than a step above whores!" She started to stand, to storm off, but Jonouchi put his hand on top of hers.

"You're a great person Anzu. Its just that he gave his heart away a long time ago." He looked up at the stars to hide the faint pink on his face, and Anzu followed his lead. All wasn't right with the world of the heart, but it was getting there.

---

A few hours earlier….

Malik had found Ryou deceptively heavy, and he was panting by the time he reached his own small living quarters. Never mind that it was the longer way around, he was damned if he was going to spend any more time around anything that might belong to, or have been touched by Bakura. So, his place it was. He'd left Ryou on the bank long enough to scrounge a piece of clothing for him. It was a dress, granted, but there wasn't much to go around in a thieves' village and, Malik had reasoned, Ryou was certainly feminine enough to pull it off. It was more a robe than a dress anyway, long and sweeping and a pale green color. Malik had even cut small, ragged holes in the back to accommodate Ryou's wings. It had been a headache even to do that.

"Those wings must add twenty pounds." He grumbled, settling down on the floor to watch over Ryou. He was still, too still. It was eerily like when they'd found him. Was he dead? Malik no longer felt the traces of Bakura's magic around the white-haired boy. Without that there didn't seem to be much of an essence to the form on the bed. The air around him was perfectly clear, untainted by magic. No, that wasn't right. Malik recognized a bit of his own aura hovering low over the body. But it was traveling upward at a steady pace, then dissipating. Ryou was leaking magic. "Damn iiiiiiiiit." Death was no longer good enough for Bakura. This was grounds for maiming of an extreme degree. And then death. HE pushed his unruly hair out of his eyes, still swearing. "Okay. Ryou is leaking magic." He spoke to himself slowly, trying to reason. "If he loses it all then he'll be dead, and then _I'll_ be dead when Bakura gets back. But he can absorb magic," he groaned, though it was more halfhearted than anything. Who was around to hear him if he didn't mind, anyway? "through touch. Or, kissing anyway. Okay."

Breathing shallowly he leaned over Ryou, but couldn't quite bring himself to close the final few centimeters between their lips. What was the big deal? _Are you afraid that you're going to enjoy it? _A traitorous voice whispered in his head. True, Ryou had kissed him before. But that had been Ryou's doing. That hadn't counted. "I always swore I'd never be like Bakura." He whispered to the prone figure. "No stealing, no murdering, no espionage, and no men." He sighed. "I guess this is just the last rampart falling." He kissed Ryou, mouth open, trying to will his magic into the boy.

As it turned out the will was hardly necessary. Ryou's will to survive overpowered every other aspect of him. Malik felt his aura straining towards Ryou, pulled by a more powerful force. The world was beginning to look hazy. This would be the time to move. Malik struggled, but found that Ryou's small hands had locked around his back, trying to drain him of every last drop of his essence. "Ryou." He was panicked, not bothered to show it. "Let me go." Of course his words were muffled beyond comprehension due to his position. _Let go let go let go _he tried to will Ryou off of him, his arms slackening as they had the last time he'd been stupid enough to be helpful. _So this is how I'm going to die… _He mused, just as Ryou's eyes slid open.

Ryou took a second to process what was going on, why he wasn't in the river, and why Malik was barely breathing on top of him. _I'm dangerous. I keep hurting Malik, but I don't remember anything! _"Malik?" His voice trembled. In the very short time that he'd been in the outside world this man had become his protector, and with Ryou's limited scope of experience Malik was also the only person Ryou had chanced to become attached to, Bakura aside. He focused his sight, finding Malik's fierce purple fire all but gone. It was in his own mind now, keeping him breathing and moving. But it wasn't sticking as Bakura's had, as if his body was incapable of holding it to itself. Even the littlest movements left Ryou feeling winded.

"Malik?" He shook the blonde gently. "Don't leave me alone." Malik's aura was faint, very faint. But that soft white light was still there. "Please." He threaded his fingers through Malik's, wishing he could will the other to live. He bent forward until his lips brushed Malik's ear. "Burn brighter." He whispered to the light. "Help him wake up." The breath seemed to brush the magic, let it feed the tiniest bit. Malik stirred.

"Uh," He moaned, the drawing of breath obviously physically painful to him. Encouraged, Ryou began to whisper all the more reverently, keeping the distance between himself and Malik as small as possible. When the white light covered all of Malik's body in a subtle but pulsating glow, he abated, watching Malik open his eyes with a contented look on his face. "What happened?" Malik's face was painted with confusion. "I was floating somewhere, and then someone grabbed me, and," a hard look of concentration, "and then I was here. What did you do?"

Ryou stroked Malik's hair, a gesture lifted from an accidental memory of Malik's mother so very long ago. "I told your magic to grow, to be stronger. And it listened!" Ryou's face was all but glowing.

"You called my magic?" Malik raised his hands and, shaking though they were, failed to miss the white magic. "I haven't used white magic since I was a little kid." If Ryou had this kind of power, it wasn't a wonder that Bakura wanted him. Between absorbing magic and calling it, it would be child's play to weaken the king's army to nothing. To raise their own forces to powers unlimited. And Ryou had such a pretty face. They could sneak him into the palace as a concubine…a twang of guilt struck in Malik's stomach. Now he remembered why he'd given up white magic. The guilt was a bitch. But his shadow magic was completely gone, poured into Ryou. It would take him years to build it back up again. "That's some gift you have."

The world was coming into focus now, the one outside of Ryou's gentle features. The world that was cruel and unusual, where people were by and large bastards. Ryou was holding him, close enough that Malik's back was pressed to the boy's stomach and he could hear their hearts beating in time. He could move when he felt stronger. Right now it was just comfort that he was feeling, comfort at being held for the first time in so long. "Thank you." Malik turned his head. The words had come from Ryou's mouth, though he had meant to say them.

"For what?" What had he done to Ryou except get him very nearly killed at least twice? Unless that was somehow a compliment to him. Malik would believe anything right now.

"For protecting me. For letting me have your memories, good and bad." Oops. From the look on Malik's face he hadn't meant to share so much. Which meant Ryou had all but stolen the visions in his head. He'd done a terrible thing, even if they were out of focus. He would make it up. "What can I do?" His demeanor changed completely, from soft and comforting to eager and fiery. "What can I do to help you and Bakura? For the answers the two of you have already given me I'd do anything."

"help me onto that mat then. I could really use a nap." Malik faltered at the slightly hurt expression on Ryou's face. "Come on Ryou. You don't want to promise your life for someone that you barely know."

Ryou tapped his forehead. "But I do know! I know all about you. I know that you're brave, and smart, and kind even though you try to hide it. You miss your loved ones terribly, and even if its only at the very core of you," he shifted Malik onto the makeshift bed, taking the place on the floor, "you're really scared of what you're doing." Ryou stared hard at his knees. "I never want to see anything happen to you."

"I'll admit that you scare the hell out of me." It was a cheap shot. A really cheap shot. But it was the kind of cheap shot one doles out when words ring a little too true. "But I guess I admire you too. You're so dedicated to that crazed 'cause' in your head that you're putting your life on the line." Malik propped himself up on his elbows. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. You're going to let me sleep until it gets dark. We'll go from there." Ryou nodded. It wasn't much, but it was a start.

---

Sunset had come and gone and as a certain mage was seeking the comfort of a friend Ryou and Malik were preparing for a trip of their own. Malik had concealed Ryou's wings beneath a heavy traveling cloak, and his white hair along with it. "You'll be dead if anyone mistakes you for Bakura for even a second. With him its stab first, questions later. Understand? You don't know either of us once you get there."

Ryou nodded, the gesture mostly hidden under folds of clothing. "Malik, how'd you get that cut on your face? I don't remember it being there before." He touched a gash near Malik's right eye. It was still red and trickling blood.

Malik shrugged, covering his own face. "Stuff like that happens to me. You'll get used to it soon enough." Assured that no one would recognize him, he took Ryou's hand and led him out into the night. "Don't try to contact either of us. I promise I'll keep you safe, but I can't do that if you act like you're on our side. They'll kill you without a second thought." It was a harsh way to present the world. Malik felt another stab of guilt. He was permanently sabotaging any positive view of humanity that Ryou might have had. Eh, all in a day's work.

When the moon had risen high overhead the palace was just barely in sight. Ryou's feet were soft and underused. At this rate it would be dawn before they reached the city, and there would be nowhere for them to hide. "Ryou, come on!" His tag along was some twenty feet behind him at the moment, whimpering softly and leaving behind bloody footprints. "Let me carry you. It'll be faster."

Ryou let Malik fold him into his arms, laying his head against his protector's shoulder. "I have a bad feeling about something." He said after a while. It must have been nearly midnight by then. "I think something happened to Bakura. It doesn't seem like him to stay away so long."

There were those eerie observations again. Not for the first time Malik second guessed himself. Was it safe to leave Ryou somewhere where someone else could use his powers? Always when this thought appeared he would stare at Ryou's face, brown eyes luminous in the dark, full of a kind of worship. No, he had nothing to worry about. "Its not the first time he's been held up. He'll come through whatever it is fine." What if he didn't? Ryou was still losing the purple aura. In a short time he wouldn't have been able to walk anyway. They needed Bakura.

Ryou felt Malik's breathing change, become more ragged. They wouldn't be able to go on like this. "Malik, you should let me down. If you're tired who will make sure we make it in okay?" The knot in his gut was tightening. Whatever was happening to Bakura was getting worse. "We need a faster way to get there." _Please, let me be able to do something. Anything. _The dark threatened to press in on him, close out consciousness. Ryou fought to keep his head clear. For Malik's sake he would learn to use the power that took away his awareness and memory. For Bakura's sake.

"Come on, come on." He grasped the magic leaving him with invisible hands, trying to hold it long enough to use. A long moment passed, and Ryou feared that his instinct had been wrong. There was a shooting pain in his back. He doubled over, a tear dripping down his face. "It hurts." He grasped for Malik's hand, nearly crushing the bones once he found it. And all the while he could feel his wings fluctuate and burn. When the white film of pain had cleared he stood up, leaning on Malik for support. Behind him were two sleek shapes; one white and soft, the other sleek and black. They extended to the ground, brushing it every time they moved. "I think I know how to get us there faster."

"Holy shit!" The balance had shifted, and now it was Malik clinging desperately to Ryou, who had a queasy expression on his face. Malik eyed him with concern. "I really, really don't like that you're making that face when we're more than five hundred feet from the ground."

"I don't think I like flying." Ryou whispered, scanning the ground for a place to land. He collapsed on a high tower of the castle, miraculously enough one that had just recently been vacated by two stargazers. Malik clutched his chest, panting. He didn't like flying either. Especially when the pilot kept trying to close his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the ground.

"I never," he rasped, throwing back the hood of his cloak so that his sandy hair waved in the breeze, "ever want to do that again. I don't care if Bakura's bleeding to death." He reached out for Ryou's hand again. "We have to hurry."

Ryou held back, shifting his feet guiltily. "I'll come, if you promise that we'll find Bakura first. I know you had a plan. But he's here, I can feel it! I want to know that he's all right."

Malik shook his head. "You're crazy. Absolutely crazy. But fine. I don't like it, but fine." He took Ryou's hand in his own, and began to search for a way off the roof.

---

He was bleeding. That bastard, he'd die. No ordinary death, but a painful and slow one at the Thief King's hands. Slowly Bakura took his hand from the gash on his shoulder, licking the blood leisurely from his hands. He did love blood. A laugh started low in his throat, building to the cold, high crescendo that sent people to their knees whispering last prayers. He raised his non-injured arm to point at the king. "You sealed your death, your highness!"

Atemu raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "Those are big words from you, thief. Especially since I'm not the one who's bleeding." It was true. No matter how many blows Bakura or Diabound landed the King remained unscathed. His own spirit creature, a black mage, had taken a few blows and yet he too was barely winded. It was impossible! "I would say that this fight is over."

Bakura was backed into a corner, near to the door but not foolish enough to run through it. Mater thief or no, those tunnels were extensive enough that the king would have plenty of time to make a leisurely search for Bakura's corpse. He was out of options. "I'll die before I'll surrender to you." He drew a long, gem studded knife from the sash at his waist, aiming for his throat, when his option walked through the door.

"Atemu?" Yuugi's voice was very small in the gloom, reflecting back to him in echoes. The puzzle was shining in his hands. He knew this probably hadn't been what Anzu had had in mind for him to do when she'd comforted him, but the feeling wouldn't go away. He'd found the tunnels without much trouble, but hadn't known where to turn in the dense labyrinth. But the puzzle had. It had begun to emit a faint glow, one that faded or grew stronger as he followed the endless corridors. It had been his guiding light, and there was Atemu before him! "You're all ri-" His words were cut off by the feel of cold metal against his throat.

A soft voice breathed against his ear. "If you make a sound I'll slit your throat boy." Yuugi stiffened, trying desperately to hold back the trembling. This was the bad feeling, why terror had grown in his gut. He glanced at Atemu, eyes so wide they nearly took up his entire head. The Thief pulled him close, laughing. "Looks like my luck hasn't quite run out yet, eh your Highness?"

Atemu blazed with anger. It should have been impossible for Yuugi to find this place, even with the puzzle. The puzzle reacted to the strength of a bond. That was its magic. He swore. This would cost him. "What do you want?"

"Your head on a platter, and this kingdom burning at my feet." He said it as a whisper, yet it carried throughout the chamber. "But I'll settle for the look on your face as I spill this boy's blood." His eyes never stopped moving. He'd lost track of the mage. This worried him, but there was the door at his back, and Diabound to cover the rest. "And the best part will be that you are powerless to stop me." Yuugi flinched, feeling the blade begin to bite into his skin.

"Bakura!" From the door behind him came two familiar, and most unwanted shapes. Ryou was leaning heavily on Malik. His eyes were bleary and unfocused. "I found you." He smiled. Letting go of Malik to try and stagger into the room. There was movement from the shadows, and a bronzed arm wrapped around Ryou's throat. The stakes were tied.

"Let him go, Seto." Malik's words were very deliberate. "He has nothing to do with this." Bakura spared Malik the briefest glance. Something had changed about the palace brat.

Seto snorted. "That doesn't make the least difference. Yuugi is as innocent as this boy. And their lives will suffer the same fate." He gave Bakura a look. "Whatever that may be."

"I'll kill you all." Bakura growled. He still needed Ryou. This would be taking a gamble. Briefly he tightened his hold on Yuugi, then shoved him into the mage so that the three toppled into a tangle of arms and legs. In the second that opened up he ran for the Pharaoh, his knife aimed for the heart.

"Hold just a second Thief." Seto was on his feet again, a knife of his own pressed against Ryou's throat. "Stop where you are."

It was too funny! The mage thought that he had leverage, that he had someone Bakura would sacrifice his goals for. "Fool!" He kept moving. His goal was right before him now, staring with hatred and to Bakura's delight a tinge of fear. The insanity would be in his eyes then. The bloodlust. "If I can kill this man then I want for nothing!" Atemu, realizing that Bakura would not be stopped, moved to dodge the blade a breath too late. The knife pierced his shoulder, sliding through to the other side with a sickening sucking. Bakura smirked. "Missed. But you're not going anywhere." He pulled the knife out and prepared to strike again.

"Ah!" The sound came not from the man before him but from behind. Malik was facing the mage, Ryou on the ground at their feet. A knife glinted in his hand, and he clutched his arm with the other. Blood ran in rivulets from between his fingers. Feeling Bakura's bloody gaze on him Malik shouted. "Take Ryou and run you stupid bastard! If you try and go through with this we're all going to die!"

"Don't tell me what to do, brat!" When he returned his gaze to the King the wound was gone. Atemu was smiling. "Damn." Bakura began to back away, holding the knife before him as protection.

Malik screamed, part in pain and part in frustration. "I can hold them both off long enough for you to get out of here!" He'd drawn Seto away from Ryou, leaving the white haired boy to try and stand despite his exhausted state. "Go!"

Bakura hated being told what to do, even when it was the wisest course. Calling Diabound to him as a shield his knelt and scooped the boy up in his arms. "This makes us even, brat!" With Ryou safely in his arms he called on his magic, melting the pair and his creature into the gloom. As he made the escape he felt Ryou struggling in his arms, calling weakly for Malik.

"Stop struggling or I'll drop you." He loosened his grip to demonstrate that it was no empty threat. Ryou squeaked, clutching Bakura's robe for support. From then on there was no more struggling.

"Damn you're heavy." Ryou's wings had long since returned to their original size with his waning energy, but they retained their full weight. Drained, Ryou rested his head against Bakura's shoulder, ready to sleep. A fleck of blood splattered his lips as the pair moved through the night. Ryou licked it away carefully, feeling a small shoot of energy as he did. Curious, he extended his small pink tongue, catching a few more drops of blood on it. More energy. He was beginning to feel awake again, and his heart was beating faster. But he'd lost the feeling of safety. Nothing could be perfect apparently.

He tried to drink more of the blood, wanting enough strength to rescue Malik. Bakura's death glare stopped him mid gesture, his tongue brushed against the bloody fabric. "If you move again before we get back to the base I'll finish what that mage started." Ryou nodded, terrified. He watched the night pass by in silence, fearful and breathlessly excited by turns. Was this normal?

When they had reached relative safety Bakura let Ryou down onto the bed, his hand closed over that small white throat. "Tell me how you found me."

Ryou shivered. "A feeling. I just knew where you were. I followed the call of your magic." He drew a shallow breath. "Your memory is in my head, and, and, I don't know! I just knew that you needed help."

Bakura squeezed, then released his grip. Ryou curled up on the bed, making himself as small as possible. "Some help you were, eh? Almost got us all killed, and got that idiot captured. Are you proud?"

"Please, let me help him. Let me help Malik." He tried to sit up, to go, but Bakura pushed him back down on the bed.

He pushed his face close to Ryou's. "Malik is as good as dead to me now. He will escape on his own or he will rot. I don't need him. You, however, are still useful to me." Ryou made another move to escape, and Bakura pinned his arms above his head, straddling the frightened boy to keep him still. "You're still a mystery."

"I'm not." Ryou shook his head vigorously. "Malik figured it out, figured me out. Please, if we go he can tell you."

Bakura freed one hand, the other easily pinning both of Ryou's wrists. He tilted Ryou's chin up to face him. "You're going to tell me."

Ryou felt warmth rush to his face. Bakura's look was predatory, and it was becoming so that the panic and excitement in his chest were indistinguishable from one another. "I, he, he figured out that I absorb magic from contact. Breath," he glanced at Bakura's shoulder, "blood. And magic keeps me going. But his won't stay with me. It keeps escaping. Yours didn't escape."

"Interesting." It was more a purr than real words. "So if I do this," A kiss, hard enough that Ryou could feel his jaw aching. He gave in meekly, feeling energy surging down to the tips of his fingers. And Bakura's angry red magic was settling into the spot it had carved in his mind. He pulled away almost as soon as it had begun. Ryou strained, still feeling weak. Bakura wagged a finger at him. "Ah, ah, ah. For every piece of useful information you give me I'll feed your energy reserves. And maybe if you're good we'll try another experiment." His free hand traveled the line of Ryou's body. Ryou ached for the touch, for the feelings it brought to him. It would be a long night.

"Please." He tried one last time. "Let me go to Malik. I'll do whatever you say, anything. Just let me help him."

Bakura fixed him with those eyes. In their depths Ryou could almost see burning, hear the screaming. "Know this. You seem to have garnered the quaint idea that people have gentle cores, and that if they seem to care for you then they do. But people are bastards Ryou. And they will stab you in the back. I don't hurt you because I own you, and things that are mine do not come to harm. But if you disobey me you are no longer mine. And I'll kill you." He nuzzled his face into Ryou's neck. Heated breath sent shivers up and down the boy's body. He was terrified, he was happy, he wanted to escape and to remain forever trapped in this hellish embrace. Bakura was speaking again. "Swear to obey me."

Ryou bit back tears. "I promise."

---

As soon as he knew Ryou was gone Malik dropped his knife, falling to his knees to hold the wound in his arm closed. "Who knew I'd end up here again. Eh, Seto?"

"Don't speak, traitor. The only reason that you're not dead right now is because we're going to need the information in your brain." Seto's foot lashed out, catching Malik in the stomach. He doubled over, gagging.

Yuugi ran to him, instinctively trying to help someone in pain. Seto grabbed the boy by the collar, throwing him back towards Atemu. "get him out of here! He's lucky that we weren't all killed because of him." He indicated Malik. "This man is a dangerous criminal, at the very least guilty of treason. You will treat him as such. _Is that clear_?" Yuugi nodded, reaching out for Atemu. The king put his hand on Yuugi's shoulder, whispering words of comfort to him.

Between the fits of pain Malik managed a choked laugh. "Don't you get it? It doesn't matter what you do to me. The only person I might have cared about is gone now, out of your grasp. You could flay me alive and I wouldn't tell you a thing. Remember, I'm used to pain thanks to you."

Seto's eyes burned. "Then this won't bother you at all." He flipped the grip on his knife, striking Malik with the hilt. The world was filled with stars. Far away Malik heard a gasp, saw the small mage bury his head against the king's chest.

Malik almost smiled. He'd been stupid enough to come here, to put his life on the line for some foolish boy that Bakura would likely kill as quickly as the rest of his pawns. He deserved this fate. _Alone again… _And then everything was black.

---

Next Time: Malik awaits his fate, meditating on the events that brought him to Bakura. Yes people, it's a Malik-centric chapter. Fear it.


	4. Solo

This chapter was a pain in the ass to write. I like the way it turned out mostly, but it was so totally the opposite of super special awesome.

Disclaimer: YuGiOh belongs to Kazuki Takahashi, and when I die I'm going to a special hell just for fan girls. Might as well enjoy myself 'til then.

---

Helping the enemy was a bad thing. Any enemy, but especially an enemy who was considered to be such a very dangerous criminal. They didn't deserve it. But common sense has a way of falling to the wayside of compassion, and Yuugi had spent almost two days watching the young man sitting in a jail cell. He could almost see the wound Seto had inflicted begin to fester. Surely they would want him to treat an infection? If it got much worse the man would be delirious and questioning would be completely impossible.

"I'll just hurry." He shivered. The air down here was cold. From the pocket of his long robe, the mark of a mage-in-training, he drew a rough key that he'd 'borrowed' from Jonouchi. Only borrowed, since he intended to return it and leave his friend none the wiser. He swung the barred door open wide enough to slip himself inside, and crept cautiously toward the blonde man. He didn't seem dangerous now. But few people do when they're chained and unconscious. Yuugi had a feeling that the Thief King would be the exception to that rule. Being near to the white haired man had made his skin crawl. It was as if the man gave off waves of pure terror.

One foot caught on a rock, sending a clattering sound reverberating off the walls. The blonde moaned and turned slightly. He attempted to open his eyes, not-quite-lavender orbs bleary from fever and exhaustion. "Ryou?"

Pity crept up in the small white mage. This man, for all that he was said to have done, just didn't seem evil. "Hold still." Yuugi whispered, laying his hands hesitantly over the wound. His fingers touched solid flesh on the arm, but on the shoulder…"I thought the wound as lower." He shrugged, chalking it up to bad observation. Yuugi adjusted his hands, spreading his small fingers as wide as he could to cover the sizeable gash. White sparks danced beneath his hands, burning out the infection as he concentrated.

Beside him the man moaned and tried to shift away from the sparks. Yuugi clamped down. If he didn't finish the wound would be raw, more vulnerable to infection than it had been before. He would stop when it was smaller, clean, and re-bandage it so that no one would suspect. That was the plan. But as Yuugi removed his hands he found the cut almost completely healed. The only way that could have happened would be- "Are you a healer?"

"You're him, aren't you? That kid." Malik's vision was poor, rendering everything around him a series of unidentifiable blurs. He struggled to sit up. "Where's Ryou? Is he gone? If he's not, there's hell to pay." He struggled against his bonds, sinking back against the wall after a few scant minutes. Malik settled for sizing up the person-sized blur closed to him. "Why?" He croaked.

Yuugi sat, removing the bloody shirt that was partly melded to the wound by dried and drying blood. "I came to the palace so that I could learn to help people in pain." From another pocket in his robe came bandages and salves. "I never want to see people in pain, not if there's a chance that I can help them." Yuugi's eyes were far away, his hands working automatically on the dressing while his gaze fixed on something long ago.

The pain was gone, but the world was still foggy. Beneath probing fingertips Malik could feel cold stones, and the same material at his back. A prison cell, then. "Heh. You'd think Seto could have sprung for a little more than this for me." He laughed. The sound of it echoed off the walls, fever-tinged and bitter. He sounded like Bakura. Dammit. A part of him was delightfully far away, almost floating over the scene. "Do you know my sister?"

Yuugi snuck a glance at his patient, securing the bandage. "I-I don't know." He thought long and hard. There weren't any others in the palace who had hair like his, or those purple eyes. Besides the king. But that would be impossible. "I don't even know who you are."

Another laugh from under his breath, hysterical. It was too funny! This boy, with such innocence on his face, the mocking image of what he'd been. Truly the gods, if they existed, had a sense of irony. "I'm what happens when good little pets like you," He tried to raise his hand, to touch Yuugi. It fell short. "go bad and run away from home. And then you're a traitor. Once I was Malik Ishtahl."

Yuugi's eyes grew big as plates. "Then your sister!" He couldn't continue. Yes, there was a family resemblance after all. And to think. How could Seto hate him so much?

"From your reaction I see that bastard mage is still seeing my sister." He shut his eyes, remembering. They weren't much good to him as they were anyway. "She has such talent. She can handle him. But he's sure as hell not good enough for her." The anger was almost palpable in the air. Yuugi recoiled, resettling a short distance away. "More concerned about his work when she deserves someone who'll give her the world."

Yuugi shifted uncomfortably. Seto could be intense, it was true, but Yuugi believed him to be an honorable person. He had to, if he was going to learn anything. "I'm sorry." He glanced at the door, listening hard. No one was coming, and he was itching with curiosity. "Why did you run from the palace? Why help a killer?"

This kid was so gullible it was almost painful. Malik wasn't sure if he wanted to slap him or muss his hair. Not that he had the energy for either. "Two things first." He held up two slender fingers. "Tell me what your name is. And tell me what the likelihood is that I'm going to die in this gods-forsaken hellhole."

"I'm Yuugi." Yuugi fidgeted, then realized that Malik wouldn't be able to see with his eyes closed anyway. "the chance is," he lowered his voice to a conspirator's whisper, "the chance is one hundred percent. Treachery against the crown is an automatic death sentence. And you were helping the Thief. If Seto could he'd kill you twice."

"I bet he would." Malik's voice dripped with venom. "And your precious King would love it just as much, I'm sure."

Yuugi bristled, mustering up a rarely used ferocity. "Atemu is a good man! And a good King! He'd never let something like that happen." Yuugi shook his head so hard he could feel his eyes rattling in their sockets. "He always makes sure that its painless. Unlike _your_ king."

It was Malik's turn to bristle. "He's not my king, or my anything. He suits my ends." Yuugi's denials prodded at Malik's rather odd sense of humor. "And if I'd known you were in _love _with his Highness I wouldn't have offered to tell you anything." He groped for Yuugi's hand in the dark and patted it mockingly. "I wouldn't want to upset that pedestal."

Yuugi was glad Malik's eyes were shut; his face was burning. "I'm not in love with him. He's kind to me, and he spends time with me when Anzu and Jonouchi can't. He's the only one who can beat me at games." He trailed off. It sounded rather pathetic, trying to defend himself to a total stranger who knew nothing about him. "What do you know about Atemu anyway?"

Well, what a place to begin. "Everything. It was my duty to know everything about that wretched princeling. Absolutely everything." He fought to open his eyes, succeeding for a moment or two before they slid closed again. They'd have to stay closed, or it would be back to sleep. Dangerous things could happen in the world while one slept. "My eyes were blue once."

---

Ryou turned fitfully, tormented by dreams that were just out of his reach. Memories, most likely. His own mind lacked the imagination to conjure dreams of its own. Ah, bitter. Those must be Bakura's thoughts then. Whatever it was, Ryou concluded as his eyes slid open, it had been particularly heartbreaking. A bird in a cage came to mind. The thoughts felt like Malik's, but then, his mind hadn't thought of much else in the last two days.

Bakura growled in his sleep, his fingers tightening their hold on Ryou's hair. The soft texture of it lulled the thief, let him fall off to sleep in peace. Malik would have been horrified at the scene. First because Bakura was sleeping, which, Ryou had gathered, was something he had not done in several years. And second (though this reason did not occur to Ryou) because Ryou's fragile form was curled neatly against the thief's.

It provided its own form of safety, Ryou had concluded. As long as he didn't move too much, or speak, Bakura would never let anyone touch him. He pulled himself in closer to loosen the painful grip on his hair, carefully taking Bakura's hand in his own. He would have to be careful, or his keeper would make good on his word. Freed from the thief's tanned hands, he began the arduous process of untangling himself, searching for his clothing in the dark.

The moon was high overhead, casting shadows on the isolated room. _Careful, careful. Don't make a sound. _He located his robe beneath the bed, and a pair of slippers near the door. He felt Bakura stir as he opened the door, but brushed it aside. It wasn't unusual to feel the movements, the sighs. It was as if a channel had opened between them since-Ryou's face grew warm with memory. That had been a contradiction too, just like everything else about Bakura. And worse Ryou found himself addicted to the thrill of those hands, that mouth, the inexplicable feeling that hazed his mind over in white an stopped thought dead in its tracks. Bakura could kill him if he woke, but he had a more powerful weapon now. All he had to do was cut Ryou off from the touch he all but needed to live.

Ryou froze as a board creaked beneath his feet, casting a panicked look backward. No, Bakura hadn't moved. He was outside now, almost to safety. _I'm coming Malik. _He willed his wings to grow to a serviceable size, bottling the whimpers and flinching at every small sound they made as they grew. Hesitantly he spread his wings, ready to leave the ground.

A hand grabbed him from behind, clamping down on the sleek skin of his black wing. "I won't stand for it." Bakura's voice was a silky whisper, more petrifying than the fiercest battle cry. "I won't stand to be ignored." Dirt crunched beneath Bakura's feet. He nestled his head on Ryou's frozen shoulder. "Ryou." His hot breath tickled the white haired boy's neck. "I'm going to have to punish you."

Ryou tried to fight, struggling for all he was worth. There was a _SNAP _and a scream rose from Ryou, caught by the hand Bakura placed over his mouth. Magic rushed to the mangled appendage, trying to restore the wing to its former state. Ryou could imagine the look of amusement on Bakura's face as he watched. When the deed was done, leaving Ryou tired and winded, Bakura reached out and repeated the action.

The cycle repeated itself three times before Ryou lacked the magic to repair himself. Only then did Bakura release him, smirking in sadistic pleasure as the wings shrank to their small size, the black hanging limply. "Inside." He ordered in that near whisper. Ryou obeyed, shaken. He tried to climb into the bed only to have Bakura knock him to the floor.

"Until I am assured that you won't try that again, you can sleep there." Ryou whimpered. The pain was unbearable, and if Bakura wouldn't let him near then healing would be impossible. As an afterthought Bakura tossed his red cloak over Ryou, settling down on the bed in the white under robe.

Ryou clutched the fabric, lying down as best he could. He hated Bakura then. And yet…"I'm sorry." Bakura made a small 'hmph', rolling over. Ryou couldn't help but notice that his sleeping patterns became fitful, and the next morning there were shadows under Bakura's eyes.

---

__

"I had blue eyes once…"

The very same blue eyes that Ishizu still had, the only thing that truly marked family resemblance among them, at least clearly. 'The blue of the night skies' that mage had told her. Malik had watched from around a corner as his skin-crawling arms had encircled her waist, his head resting on her shoulder. Malik had felt a childish bout of rage then, and the first inkling of a hatred for the mage. Sibling rivalry is a powerful force, but protectiveness was a stronger one still.

"Ishizu," Malik had asked her once, taking his eyes off of the scroll she was trying with unearthly patience to grind into his brain, "why do you spend so much time with _him_? Don't you like me any more? I always have to study, and I never see you." Outside of these sessions he hadn't seen his sister in nearly a week. This was an especially impressive feat given that their rooms were situated next to each other. "I'm tired of learning so many spells."

Ishizu shushed him, turning pink. "Its important that you learn these spells, Malik. Its not just yourself that you'll have to protect some day."

Malik crossed his arms, putting on his best pout. "You always tell me that, and you never tell me anything else! If its going to happen so soon, and its so dangerous why won't you tell me anything? I want to play outside." As if to strengthen his point the shoved the scrolls off the table, watching them spill to the floor with the satisfaction only a child can achieve.

Ishizu really surprised him then. She slapped him, hard enough to leave a pink mark on his cheek. A regretful look crossed her face as soon as she had, but done was done. She knelt to pick up the scrolls. "You know I'm not allowed to tell you Malik. I only know a little myself, and I worry for you. But it's a noble thing, being the king's protector." She dropped the scrolls from her arms, opening them to her little brother. "Do you forgive me?"

What else can a child do when they have no other family but forgive? Malik folded himself easily into her arms, hiding his smirk against her shoulder. He'd protect his sister from that mage, even if meant he never left her embrace. He would do anything for her.

Later he'd stared over their balcony, watching the comings and goings of the people below him. The breeze whispered warmly in his ear and mussed his hair, the sun kissing his skin. He'd tried again and again to convince Ishizu to hold their lessons here, but she would have none of it. She drew her powers from the moon, and the sun was not kind to such people.

"Shouldn't you be inside?" A cool voice remarked idly. "I would be impressed have you compiled the entire library into that head of yours, but I doubt it." Seto didn't hate him exactly. At least not at that time. It was merely the annoyance one feels for the younger siblings of loved ones, the obnoxious brats that intruded on time alone.

Anything, anything. He would even swallow his pride. "I'm going." He even managed a short bow without gagging, leaving behind the sun for the cool drafts of the library. Love did indeed stretch a very long way.

"I only met the king once, right before, well, before_…."_

"He's _short!_" Malik's eyes widened to show whites all the way around. He tugged on Ishizu's sleeve. "Is that really him?" He whispered. Ishizu would know. And if he was going to have to be nice to someone so much shorter than he was he had to know for sure. Ishizu nodded.

Malik bowed rather awkwardly to the pint-sized prince. "Highness." He mumbled, uncertain of what to do next. This meeting seemed unnecessary, not to mention uncomfortable.

The future ruler of the nation smiled. "Its Atemu." He squatted, eyeing Malik curiously. "Are you really going to be me?"

"Eh?" Malik blinked, thrown off balance-metaphorically and literally. He tumbled to the ground. "Who said anything about being you? I don't want to be you." The words tumbled out before he could stop them. "I _like_ being tall!"

Atemu stared, puzzled and obviously of the mind that the boy was crazy. "Father told me that you'd be me, like your father is for him. But I don't think he meant it literally." He seemed to be taking the short comment rather well.

Ishizu ushered Malik away, trying to do damage control. "Malik," she whispered, "we have to get back to your studies." Malik threw one more look over his shoulder, but by then the small king was gone.

__

"My father died when I was ten."

"Its not fair." Malik sobbed into Ishizu's skirt, his head pressed against her legs. His sister sat in a chair, poring over her reading and crying a tear herself. "Its not fair!" It was the only coherent thought that he could get out.

Ishizu stroked his hair absently. "Its all right Malik. Father was proud to die as he did. It was an honor."

Malik shook his head, a frustrated cry fading into the sopping material. "The king is sick, he's going to die anyway! Father didn't have to die for someone who'll be dead in a few months!"

"Malik!" His sister's eyes darted across the room. They were alone, but she worried for her brother's sharp tongue. "You can't say those things! They'll call you a traitor." She bent over, hugging him as best she could from the awkward angle. "I do not wish for anything to happen to you little brother."

"Then don't let them go through with this!" In two weeks Malik would go through with his fate, a fate far les mysterious now that Seto had unveiled a few facts with a smirk. Another piece of kindling on the hatred that Malik felt for him. The hatred had extended to the king and the prince that day.

He was to be marked, to receive the same marks that his father bore. One long, aching brand on his person, and that wasn't even the worst of it. He learned so many spells, spent so many slavish hours indoors, because he would be a bodyguard. Not even that. Bodyguards were allowed their own lives. Malik would have no life separate from Atemu. He would bear his scars, his battle wounds. He would carry all the king's ills on his own flesh until his death.

Seto had said all this as if he expected Malik to be proud, the way his father and sister were proud. Malik had boiled inside, longing to strangle the tall boy. His father had died writhing as his insides melted from an attempted poisoning. Malik would not go the same way. He'd vowed to escape, or to die in the attempt.

But looking up at his sister's mourning face he hadn't the courage to tell her. It would be better if he simply disappeared, leaving no trace of himself to shame her. She could forget he had ever lived, and they could find some other sap to be the king's shield.

__

"I left that same night. Didn't make it very far."

Every noise in the night was a monster of enormous size, threatening to devour him whole. Why couldn't he have gone north or west, into one of the small cities? He left the palace so seldom that no one would recognize him. Even east, into the hellish heat of the desert, would have been preferable to this.

Not for the first time Malik knelt in the dirt, covering his head and shaking in terror. He waited for the attack that, once again, didn't come. It would be morning before they noticed that he was gone, he told himself. There was no need to worry. By then he could find a safe hiding spot, out of the sun's heat.

Calmer, he slowed to a walk beneath the trees. His heart was still jack hammering in his chest, and his breathing was very near to hyperventilating, but hiding it was easier. He was almost reasonably level headed when something struck him from behind.

He tumbled to the ground, clutching the back of his head. A figure stood over him, nudging Malik's prone figure with his foot. "You're the new toy, aren't you?" Malik would come to know that voice very well. As he heard it for the first time it had a higher, more feminine quality to the cold silk of it, untouched by the body's maturity. It was somehow more terrifying that way. Like hands that would reach out to caress your face only to snap your neck. Malik remained silent, too dazed to move or speak.

The shadowy figure stood still, then began to back away. "You're soft now. You don't hate them enough. But I hear them coming." A ghosting laughter passed in and out of Malik's ears. "When you're filled to the brim with hatred we'll see each other again."

As soon as he'd appeared the boy was gone and Malik was alone. No, not alone. There was a pounding of feet behind him, and he was barely able to move. Apparently he'd underestimated how much he would be missed.

__

"That bastard. If it hadn't been for him I would've gotten away. Instead I got the most hellish pain you can imagine."

They locked him in a room with no windows, with no lamps, with nothing but the dark and the beating of his own heart. Time was impossible to count there. Malik was vaguely aware that it passed, but beyond that things slipped through his fingers. There was nothing to do but sit in the absence of light and hate. Hate the man who had caused his capture. Hate the mage who had told him of his fate. Hate the king who was the reason for it all.

At first he'd tried to light the room with small sparks of white magic. They flickered and died before they were far past his fingers. By nature he knew healing magic; it came to him with no thought. But he'd learned spells of destruction, disease, death, and it was choking the healing part of him. His aura was changing colors, though he wouldn't know to call it an aura for some time to come. Malik merely felt a change in his internal balance, a peculiar difference that he couldn't quite place.

When the magic failed he began to sleep more and more often, finding that it made time pass more easily, and stopped the piecing away at his sanity. In sleep he could even leave behind the boiling mass of hatred and betrayal.

It was in one such fit of unawareness that they came for him. He reasoned later that he hadn't been in the room for long. He felt weak and tired, thirsty, but not to the point that his muscles had begun to atrophy or his body to starve. They were just making sure that he couldn't fight back.

Malik had watched tunnels and torches go by with a bleary eye, unable to recognize any of the locations in a structure that had been his come since birth. A cold, damp wind was blowing through the corridors. It grew stronger as they went along, until his mysterious captors arrived at a sank room with a low ceiling.

They tied him facedown to a stone table, stripping him of his shirt. He shivered in the cold, struggling against his bonds, trying at least to see the faces of his captors. Something glinted in the corner of his sight. A knife. Malik put all of his strength into the struggle. This wouldn't happen to him. He'd sworn it, and he meant to keep his word.

The man with the knife waited patiently for Malik to run out of strength before he approached. He laid the cold steel of the knife against the boy's tan flesh, murmuring. "I do this only for the king. Not for malice against you."

Seto. Seto was going to cut him open, slit the veins of any life he might hope to have. Tears pricked at his eyes, and he hated himself for showing weakness in the face of this man. The knife bit into his back and he whimpered, determined not to scream in front of this man. The determination lasted only a small while against his exhausted mind. Let them hear him throughout the palace then. Let them know the terrible things that went on beneath their feet.

He opened his mouth to scream. It came out choked, a gag pressing the sound inside of his body. Bastards. They wouldn't even allow him to voice this pain. Malik tried to remove himself as far from his body as he could, imagining the terrible things that he would do to them someday, the pain and suffering he would unleash against them tenfold.

Someone else was approaching him now. The knife was gone, the shredded flesh of his back bleeding freely. Fingers touched down on the carvings, collecting blood on the digits. Malik focused hard in an attempt to grasp what was going on. Magic tingled and sparked in the air above him. A small, wobbling voice sounded above him. "By this blood I accept the contract, and bind thee as my Shadow."

The knife glinted in the dark again, and the figure gasped in pain. Tan fingers spread blood across Malik's lips. "By this blood accept my magic, and my identity, until death does release you from our contract." Malik felt a burning from head to toe, a headache building behind his eyes. _Atemu…_

And then he didn't remember anything.

__

"It was weeks before I could walk. More weeks until I figured how to get out."

And weeks to hate, to devote himself carefully to the scrolls that he wouldn't have when he was gone. He was going to kill the king, without a doubt. But he wouldn't do it now, not when he was still in a position where his sister could be implicated for his crime. So he studied, and grew stronger.

It wasn't with a whisper that he escaped the second time, but with a bang; by the time Malik was gone there was nearly an entire side of the protective wall gone. It wasn't necessary; Malik had grown charismatic, able to talk anyone with a mind weaker than his own into do anything he could ever dream of asking. But hate has a funny way of altering one's course. And it had a way of making shadow magic stronger.

A feeling of regret had twisted in his gut as he walked out. He could hear the screams of people dying, people that weren't implicated in his cause. But these were the prices that the king would pay. Let him look on what he had caused through his own cowardice and weep. Malik hadn't enough tears left for his own fate, let alone that of others.

The forest was much less frightening to him now. Pain had sharpened his senses in a permanent manner, and knowing the source of the forest's echoes made them laughable.

He stopped to rest near the river, hidden by thick trees from the eyes of the city. Cautiously Malik made his way to the water's edge. He'd avoided mirror's since the ceremony, afraid of them for a reason he couldn't place. The face that looked up at him was his own, in a way. Dark lines were tattooed beneath his eyes in a way that a layman would mistake for makeup. His face was hard, and his eyes, his wonderful blue eyes that reminded him of his sister, they were _violet_.

Malik slammed his fist into the water, shattering the image into a thousand water droplets. A long scream echoed into the night and he curled in on himself, having nowhere to direct his fury. "Couldn't even leave me that, could you? Bastard. I'll kill you. Slit your throat, but not before I prove to your subjects what a wretched coward you are."

"Anger is wonderful, isn't it?" The voice wrapped around him in the dark, though the figure it came from stood some feet away. "It has a way of making the world fill with life when there's nothing else. It gives one such, motivation." The figure swayed with the breeze, giggling to itself in an insane rhythm. "You're ready now."

The figure approached him from behind, moving in utter silence. It offered Malik a hand. He took it with suspicion, rising to face the figure. "Who are you?"

Another laugh. "You haven't earned that information yet. But know this: I'm going to help you kill the king, to achieve the revenge that will quench the ache in yourself. Just do as I say, and the world will be at your feet."

---

Malik coughed, his voice cracking and threatening to give out. "Hey, kid. You got any water?" Yuugi produced a jug from his seemingly bottomless pockets, holding the back of Malik's head to support him as he drank. When his voice could function again, Malik continued. "And I _believed_ that crazy son of a bitch! Didn't know how crazy he was for a week or two, but I learned. I I've become just as round-the-bend insane as he is. Ah, well." He opened his eyes, fatigue leeching at him. "What are you doing?"

Yuugi wiped furiously at his eyes. "Nothing." He began to pack his things away, eager to get away from this strange man. "I can't believe that anyone would do anything so cruel. I can't believe that Atemu would let it happen. You must be lying to me!" Yuugi's eyes looked through him, searching eagerly for the lie in the tale.

Malik felt a mixture of pleasure and sorrow at destroying the child's ideals. He struggled to sit up, to lean forward. "Look at my back. I swear I'm not making one word of it up."

Hands shaking, Yuugi pulled up the fabric of the prisoner's battered tunic, letting out a cry as he did. There were old scars, from Malik's shoulder blades to the small of his back. "No." Yuugi was horror struck. "no, no, no!" He stood, tripped, and skittered backwards toward the door. He had to find Atemu, prove that it was all some horrible mistake.

Malik chuckled as the boy fled, leaving the door swinging in his wake. Not that it mattered, given the amount of strength he had. He could almost see Ishizu staring down at him with disapproval, reprimanding him for relating such a story to an innocent. "Don't look at me like that." HE rolled onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut to try and drown the memories he'd started flowing. He wouldn't be able to sleep now, not without them overtaking him completely. No rest for the wicked.

---

Ryou was beginning to give up hope. The wound that Malik had sustained would be terrible by now, Bakura told him. And he couldn't see his captors being kind. His pleading with Bakura was becoming increasingly half hearted, and by sunset on the third day it was little more than habit when he asked. "He could still be alive." Ryou whispered, without much real hope. He sat on the floor, trying to think and plan around the exhaustion of his body. "They wouldn't have killed him."

Bakura must have sensed the weakness of Ryou's argument, for he drew Ryou into his arms and stroked his hair. "I'm almost ready to make my final attack on the king, pet. If you cooperate with me there may be time to carry out your little search mission," he smiled with twisted glee, "before all that's left to find is a corpse."

Ryou winced as Bakura's hands brushed the broken bones. He'd tried to set them as best he could, to avoid awkward growth, but what he really needed was magical aid. "Bakura, help." He brought the subject up without much hope. Until this moment Bakura had refused to touch him at all, letting the boy writhe with the pain and seeming to enjoy it.

"Very well." Bakura purred into his ear. "You've shown the proper remorse, my broken toy. And now your master will fix you." Ryou turned his face upwards, expecting a kiss, but Bakura reached for the bandaging Ryou himself had set, ripping it away so that the wound could bleed, unimpeded by clots. Ryou gulped, squeamish at the sight of the open wound, but he didn't dare refuse and risk letting the pain continue on for an untold number of days.

Hesitantly, under Bakura's scrutinizing gaze, he stuck his tongue out and gathered a few drops of the blood. He felt his bones begin to knit together with a series of wet crunching sounds. Encouraged, he pressed his face closer, drinking in the blood as he'd seen Bakura do with wine. It was the closest, they had found, that Ryou could come to eating. He had attempted to eat the day before. The food had had an interesting taste on his tongue, foreign but not unpleasant. The pleasant feeling had lasted several minutes, and then pain had doubled Ryou over, his system forcing the food back up exactly as it had been. The same effect had come from drink.

When the sounds ceased Bakura took hold of his hair, pulling him away. "I love that my blood is all you require, pet." He licked away what remained on Ryou's lips, until the both of them were tinted with blood-Ryou's being both above and below the surface. "It makes you all the more mine." Bakura's eyes were calm, regarding him. The gleam of insanity had dulled from their initial meeting, and from the memories of Malik's that Ryou held in his mind. How it happened he didn't know, but so long as he was quiet Bakura was infinitely more sane around him.

He tilted his head up again for a kiss and this time the thief complied, wrapping his muscled arms around the boy. _Why? I don't need anything from him. I'm spilling over with energy. But I wanted it…why? _Ryou questioned himself almost lazily, as an afterthought. In moments like these even Malik seemed far away, something from another life.

Bakura's hand reached up, tangling itself in Ryou's hair. He pulled back to draw breath, staring hard at Ryou. "You have a bad tendency of making my mind wander. Quickly then." He jerked his head to a glinting gold object near their feet. "Tomorrow you're going to help my soldiers, and then you're going to return that to the little boy who lost it." The madness was back in full force, lighting a violent fire behind the thief's words. He stroked Ryou's hair, chuckling to himself. "I'm sure he'll be missing it."

A gnawing feeling in his stomach told Ryou that the owner of that jewelry would be facing a drastically tailored lifeline if Bakura carried out his plans. "Then can I help-" His breathing caught, his resolve melting under the warm and knowledgeable touch of his keeper's hand.

Given his choices, Bakura would erase Malik from the face of the planet, and his memory along with him. The boy was nothing but a nuisance, even here and now without his physical presence. But he would humor Ryou, and simply try and find the blonde first. A terrible sight, he would purr, drawing Ryou close as he was doing now. "Yes, pet, you can complete your foolish mission, if there's anything left to rescue." He would make sure there wasn't.

---

Yuugi had been a shaking mess when he returned to his quarters, dodging the concerned looks and questions of his fellow mages and thanking his luck that he hadn't run into Jonouchi or Anzu. Anzu in particular would have been loathe to let it go, especially since it concerned Atemu. But then, he hadn't seen her since that night he'd shown up wearing the puzzle.

"Ah!" Yuugi's hand went to his chest only to find the heavy pendant was missing. "Oh no!" Yuugi began to turn his room inside out, looking for any possible place where it could have fallen. Nothing. He sat heavily on his upended bed, head in his hands. "Atemu will be so upset. It was really important to him."

Where had he had it last? He'd grown used to it being there, enough that he hadn't thought about it checking to ensure that it was still there. He'd worn it to see Anzu, of that he was certain. And he'd used it to find Atemu in the labyrinth beneath the palace. Beyond that…"Oh no." When Bakura had released him he'd felt light. He hadn't thought on it at the time, and later had chalked it up to the loss of air. But what if?

"Oh no."

---

Next Time: Bakura begins work on the final stages o his plan, and Ryou prepares for to do his part. For Malik's sake or Bakura? A disguise, a chance meeting, and a certain piece of jewelry have their role to play.


	5. Fugue

The lame excuse for why this chapter was late: a (not so little) fic called Rilzit. Figures one of the few times I pick up a new story its 450,000 words long. Eh, it happens. Hope you like what I've got, any who. Especially my lovely reviewer-types, who make my day bright and shiny.

Disclaimer: YuGiOh is the property of Kazuki Takahashi. Yup. Definitely his.

---

The peculiar thing about dreams is the way in which they warp the world around the dreamer, twisting and shaping it to reflect their innermost fears and desires, and sometimes even a glimpse at hidden truths. That night was a great one for dreams.

Ryou tossed and turned fitfully beneath Bakura's cloak, his movements stifled by the arms enclosed around him. In his mind's eye was an immense wall, stretching from one end of infinity to another. Ryou approached it cautiously, reaching out one hand to touch the barrier. It was cool and smooth, and Ryou found that his arm appeared to be reaching to the wall from the other side.

Curious, he stepped closer to the wall, seeing his whole form come into view. A mirror. _A reflective object meant to show the onlooker their own image. _It was a test's definition, cut and dried and unable to truly portray the wondrous thing in front of him.

__

That's not right. Ryou cocked his head to the side, his reflection following suit. No, that wasn't what he had looked like in the river at all. He leaned forward until his forehead touched the glass, his doppelganger doing just the same. But the form in the mirror was wrong. _Evil, _Ryou's mind whispered. It was just as pale as he, as slender and fragile in appearance. But the hair was wild, and the eyes were lined and red. Ryou found himself drowning in those bloody pools.

As he stared the figure within the mirror began to move on its own, pushing against the glass of the mirror. Had the world around them been real Ryou would have been safe. But then, reflections don't move on their own outside of the human mind. The glass rippled as the twisted double forced his way through, threading his spidery fingers through Ryou's. Ryou could feel disdain radiating from the figure, even as the silence remained heavy around them.

A lull possessed the moment before the other's fingers tightened, trying to draw Ryou into the mirror. Ryou struggled, panicked. On his side of the mirror was Bakura, Malik, everything he had come to know. He didn't want to leave it, though a feeling whispered seductively in his ear. _Go, _it said. _Go and you will be as you were meant to be. You will be perfect and untouchable. And you will know all._

Ryou screamed, but no sound came from his mouth. The rules of the dream demanded that perfect silence, leaving him no way to contact the figures in the haze behind him. His own fingers touched the glass, beginning to slide through-

A sharp pain in Ryou's side brought the dream to a halt, Bakura's small room slamming into focus around him. Speaking of Bakura. Ryou felt one bloodshot eye on him. "Stop squirming." He left it at that, rolling over to the other side so Ryou could curl against the warmth of his back.

Still weary Ryou easily melted back into a dreamless sleep, and come morning he didn't remember the dream at all.

---

Seto rubbed at his eyes, fighting a losing battle against his heavy eyelids. "Just a little longer." He could still see the prints by the dim lamplight, and he'd made so much progress that night. Who knew if it would all make the same sense by the morning's light.

Nearby Yuugi tossed and turned, similar to the way Ryou had not an hour before. Seto had holed up in the mage's room in an attempt to find peace. His luck seemed to be as bad as it had ever been. But then, how was he to know? Yuugi had been acting peculiar during his evening lessons, distraught though he wouldn't answer any questions even under the threat of Seto's most terrifying glare. He'd fretted and worried and nearly blown them both up with his lack of concentration. Things had gone downhill since then.

He rubbed his eyes again, this time to clear his vision. He was so close, so close to understanding the idea of these plans. To replicating them. He bit his lip. Ishizu wouldn't approve of that. Neither would Atemu. But if it would be best for the kingdom then he would cut himself off from both of their reasoning, and do what he felt to be best. If it would protect the people as a whole then the sacrifice of one soul seemed petty by comparison.

He turned his gaze to the plans in question. Beside them were dozens of notes made in his own hand, a mixture of translations and observations. From what he could conjecture there had at one time been two models; one a healer and one a destroyer. The sketches of the healer were small and feminine, a delicate child who would have appeared no more than seven or eight.

The second model was a terrifying thing. Even from the spells and mixtures listed on paper Seto felt a sense of dread. Powerful magic that thing would have had. More power than a body would be able to handle. Shadow magic was a combustible essence, linked intrinsically to the blood. If a mage grew too powerful…it was nature's way of keeping the balance, Ishizu had told him once. Power feeds upon and destroys itself, eventually.

This was as far as he had managed to get. There were the two before him. Why had there only being one containment unit in use in the laboratory? Seto's mind flashed back to the events in the laboratory. Who had that boy been? Anyone close to the thief was a face branded in his mind. But he couldn't place that boy. He would see what he could extract from Malik.

Malik. The boy made the most likely candidate for this whole affair, if Seto could ever figure it out. He was a traitor, a wanted criminal, he knew a fair amount of magic, enough to up the likelihood that he would survive the process (whatever the process was). And if he was the king's shadow double it would make sense to make him as strong as they could. Surely no one would argue with his logic.

Except Ishizu. She wouldn't argue with him, she very rarely did. But he could see her disapproving look in his mind's eye. As hard as he tried to separate emotion from the facts, Malik was still the younger brother of the woman that he loved. Worse, if she acquired one of her more stubborn mindsets she might even set out to stop him. And he wouldn't have the heart to do what it would take to keep moving forward.

There was little doubt, Seto mused, that the human heart was indeed the most fallible aspect of progress.

---

"Keep up, Ryou." Bakura's steps were long and fast, and at a disadvantage of some three inches Ryou was struggling to keep up. It made for a rather comical scene, but none of those assembled dared even crack a smile. They valued their lives somewhat more than that.

Ryou had spent the last hours doing exactly what he had told Bakura he could do. Granted, he had said it in a not entirely reliable mental state, and it was more work than he had calculated. Every member of the makeshift army with magic inherent in their bones had submitted to the touch of Ryou's slender fingers while Bakura looked on. Ryou quickly found calling forth their magic to be tenfold the difficulty he'd had with Malik. Every aura was diverse and uniquely colored, and often Ryou would stand stock still for upwards of ten minutes, just trying to adjust. This would prompt the ever-impatient Bakura to cast a threatening glance in his direction. By the end of it Ryou was spent.

At last Bakura stopped in his tracks, sending Ryou tumbling to the ground as he collided with the now stationary figure. Bakura spoke, undeterred. "Listen to me. In less than two days time we will make our final assault, and all the hatred that you nurse," he spared a glance to each in turn, "will be appeased. I don't care what you do. Murder, arson, theft. Just know one thing." His eyes narrowed. "If any one of you so much as dares to touch the king, I will hunt you down. There won't be enough left of your body for the worms." Ryou shivered along with the rest of the crowd.

"Who the hell gave you that right?" The voice was a darkly muttered whisper, but it carried in the dead silence. Ryou turned his eyes to the source of the sound, wondering who on earth could be so _stupid_. The rest of the thieves were clearly of the same mind, as they stepped away from the figure until it stood alone on an island of trampled earth.

The young man's resolve shook visibly as Bakura approached him, but he held his ground. "We all have grievances against the palace. We all have just as much the right as you." He was literally shaking now. Bakura grinned at him, wide and maniacal. These chances for examples didn't come along often.

"Yes." He purred. Ryou backpedaled a few steps. Bakura had used that tone with him before-right before he'd broken his bones. He looked on sadly, pitying the young fool. "Yes, I suppose you do have that right. But I _want_ it more than you, you see. And when I want something I hate to leave things in my path." He placed his hands gently on the young man's face,, the rings adorning his fingers glinting in the sunlight. "Obstacles are to be gotten ride of." His face, which had grown dark and borderline seductive, split into the grin again.

Too late the boy tried to free himself from Bakura's iron grip. Without remorse or emotion save the persistent smile Bakura wrenched his hands. The boy's neck gave a snap, and the body crumpled to the ground. Bakura stepped away from it, dusting his hands. "No need to be so silent. I'm more than willing to discuss other, _disagreements._" Silence. "Then you are dismissed." Ryou had never seen such a large group move so quickly.

When the open space was vacant Ryou approached the body. He felt as though he should do something. Bury the body, show some kind of respect. It seemed wrong to leave it there to rot. "Leave it." Bakura called, resuming his rapid pace. "We need to get you ready."

Ryou knelt before the body, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Bakura wasn't looking. He put his hands together as he had seen the young woman in Malik's memories do. Was this some form of respect? It seemed strange to him, sad and rather pointless. "Ryou!" Ryou stood quickly, brushing away the dirt, to chase after Bakura.

"Why the hurry?" He asked when he'd caught up. He kept back a few paces, wanting to stay out of the reach of the thief's arms. A look of confusion crossed his face. This wasn't Bakura's home. It was a smaller building, run down and shabby like all the buildings, but with a warm feeling to it. Bakura had stepped inside, and his voice sounded from within. "Get inside." He jerked his head towards the door. When Ryou hesitated, he smirked. "If you would rather strip out here then by all means, do so." Ryou skittered into the shack.

Bakura shut the door behind him, holding bandages in one arm. "Take that off." He indicated Ryou's robe. When it lay in a puddle on the floor Bakura unraveled the bandages, using them to secure Ryou's wings to his back. "Not a sound." Ryou bit his lip. "These things will make it impossible for you to go anywhere." When the bandages were gone the soft, feathery appendages were covered, although it made an awkward lump on Ryou's back. Bakura took a step back to survey his handiwork, obviously pleased.

Next he handed Ryou a new set of clothes, which he struggled into. The tunic flowed loosely over him, concealing the bandages. He shot Bakura a questioning look, unable to stop himself. "My illusion spells will hide those," he indicated the bandaged lumps "so long as you allow no one to touch them. Those are servant's clothes."

"How am I going to get in?" Ryou had gathered that Bakura was leaving him to make his way into the palace on his own. This disguise was honestly more help than he had expected.

Bakura waved away his concern. "I'll take care of that." He rounded on Ryou, smiling sadistically. "You're not even going to be awake for the trip there." He struck the back of Ryou's head, sending stars across the boy's line of vision. "sleep tight, pet."

---

"Its weird, you know?" Jonouchi leaned on the windowsill, letting a frustrated sigh out. "Yuugi's not the kind of guy who does this kind of thing, holing himself up all day. He wouldn't even," Jonouchi glanced to the left and right before continuing, "he wouldn't even talk to Atemu. That bastard mage must be getting to him with all the studying." Jonouchi clenched his fists, burning with rage.

Anzu shook her head, gazing down at the comings and goings of the people. She swung her legs back and forth from where they dangled off the sill, distressed. "I don't think that's it. I don't know what it is. Its scary." When the optimist in one's life grew distant the whole world started to seem a little darker. "I wish I knew how I could help." They both sighed.

Jonouchi pushed away from the window almost violently, pacing back and forth along the deserted hallway. "I've got a bad feeling about this whole thing, Anzu. Something bad's coming, and soon." This was far from the demented ravings of a concerned friend. Jonouchi hadn't risen to his position through sheer dumb luck; he had a tendency to be right. "If only things weren't so damn _quiet_. Its unnerving."

Anzu crossed her arms, rolling her eyes at his antics. "If you keep going on like that you're going to run into someone."

Jonouchi matched her, sticking out his tongue for good measure. "This hall's always deserted. Who's going to-"

Crash.

The collision of the sizeable guard with his unintended victim had left Jonouchi little more than rattled. The other involvee of the crash had fared less well. The diminutive figure (a servant, Jonouchi gathered from the clothes) was sprawled out over the floor. It moaned softly.

Anzu rushed to kneel beside the servant. "Are you all right?" She took a moment to give Jonouchi her patented 'I told you so' look. He hated that look, even if it was rather, ah, endearing in the smallest way. As Anzu reached out a hand to touch the figure's shoulder, it sat up with a start.

It-she (Jonouchi, intelligent male member of the species, took quick notice of the curving chest that her clothes were draped over) flinched away from the touch. Weird reaction. Jonouchi rubbed his eyes, convinced he'd seen the slightest shimmer in the air when Anzu had drawn close to the girl. Must've been his imagination.

Meanwhile, outside of the realm of blonde moments, the girl was nodding vigorously, taking time out to stare wonderingly at Anzu. "Y-you're a _girl_."

More weirdness. There was a breath of awkward silence. "Aren't you one too?" The girl looked down in surprise, at Anzu, and back.

"S-sorry." She blustered. "Its just where I, grew up I was mostly all alone. You know, as a, girl. I got used to thinking of myself as like everyone else." She looked down into her lap, red in the face.

Anzu had risen and was offering a hand down to the bewildered girl. "My name's Anzu. The staring idiot there is Jonouchi." The girl looked hesitantly at her hand before taking it. When they'd let go Anzu stared at her hand. There had been something off in the girl's grip.

"I-I'm Ryou." She shuffled her feet nervously. "I started here today. I was supposed to be somewhere, but I got," she struggled "lost. I was supposed to return this." She gestured at thin air for 'this', then seemed to remember something. Ryou reached a hand into the loose fabric of her tunic ("stop staring" Jonouchi received a hard hit in the ribs for that one), retrieving a shining piece of jewelry. "I was told someone lost it."

Dead silence. Both of the hallway's original inhabitants gaped at the puzzle dangling from Ryou's fingers. "Th-that's-!"

Ryou beamed, taking their reactions as a positive. "Then you can tell me where to take it?"

They nodded dumbly, gesturing for the newcomer to follow them. Jonouchi couldn't help setting off at a run. Anzu matched his pace, just as eager. She couldn't help but slip one small comment his way. "Is that the thing you had such a terrifying feeling about? I agree, Jonouchi, she looks terrifying. All one hundred pounds of her."

Jonouchi's cheeks were stained pink. "Shut up Anzu."

---

Ryou couldn't believe his good fortune. His task would be done with in the course of a mere day, and he'd have free reign to look for Malik. As he jogged after the pair ahead of him his glance fell to the puzzle in his hand. From the reactions just a moment ago Bakura had stolen something very important. Wouldn't it have been useful? Why give it back? Too many questions in too short of time.

And the disguise most of all. Bakura had told him that he would be disguised, and to keep well away from touch. He said nothing of changing Ryou's appearance so drastically! Still, it was just an illusion, right? He hoped so. Something about being a girl didn't sit well with him. The frightening stares he'd gotten when he'd awoke had sent him running down that hall in the first place.

Males became positively disgusting around females. It wasn't something he'd seen in Malik's mind, and Bakura made sure that none of his memories filtered through their connection. Pure 'food', no education. Fleetingly Ryou wondered if Malik would give him one of those looks when he found his blonde protector, or if Bakura had given those looks to the girls of his 'army'. The thought provoked a hot, uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Bakura wouldn't do that, he thought fiercely. Malik's thoughts were clearly wrong.

His breath was coming harder now. How big was this palace? "Are we almost" pant "there?" On cue both of his guides drew to a halt before one particularly large doorway. Unlike most of the ones that they had passed, this one had an actual set of doors.

Jonouchi rapped hard on them, shouting for someone. "Yuugi, open up! I don't want to have to replace this door after breaking it down!" No answer. The blonde backed away, surveying the door for its weak point. "All right then. On the count of three. One……two….." The door swung open.

Ryou gasped, quickly covering his mouth with his hands to hide it. The poor boy looked awful; bags under his eyes almost as bad as Bakura's, and a grayness about his skin. He looked positively haggard. In bringing up his hands Ryou also brought up the chain of the puzzle. The bright glint of gold had a magical effect on the boy; he perked visibly, backing out of the doorway to allow his visitors in.

"Where did you find it?" Yuugi was clutching the puzzle to him, having relieved Ryou of it the moment the disguised boy was over the threshold. The very small teenager was clutching it like the last foothold of sanity in the world. "I was so sure it had been-"

Ryou hurried to cut him off. "I found it while I was trying to find my way around here. Someone gave it to me to give to you. I don't remember his face." Terrible, terrible liar, Ryou. Some things just do not transfer from memory to reality.

However, it seemed that the ability to give an adorably regretful face outweighed the need to be an accomplished liar. "Don't worry about it. You're new, right?" He made to clap Ryou on the back, a touch Ryou hurriedly backed away from. "Sorry." He explained lamely. "I just, don't do well with touch."

Doubly interesting. Jonouchi was more and more convinced that there was something strange about this young girl. Was he thinking too much? It wasn't inconceivable that some slime had made such a pretty girl afraid to be touched. Still…

Yuugi's voice jarred Jonouchi from his concerns. Not so much his voice as Yuugi throwing his arms around him, thanking him profusely. Jonouchi stumbled, trying to keep his balance and ruffle Yuugi's hair at the same time. "It wasn't me. I just brought her here." He wrapped his arm around Yuugi's neck playfully, then released him. "Guess we should go, eh?" Knowing his competent but love struck ruler-friend, Atemu would be here momentarily, having heard, nay _sensed _Yuugi's increased happiness. They would do well to be gone by that time.

Ryou panicked, a voice whispering persistently in his mind. _Stay with the boy. _Quickly, he fabricated and excuse. "Would it be all right if I stayed? The man who found me asked me to look after you." He crossed his fingers behind his back, hoping the lie would take.

The three friends looked at him oddly, and Ryou was left feeling like an unfortunate intruder on a scene already in play. Yuugi beamed at him regardless. "Sure! it's the least I can do for your help." He paused, eyeing Ryou with a glitter in his eyes. "Do you play games?"

There was an audible groan. Anzu smiled at Yuugi, giving Ryou a look that said plainly 'poor soul'. The two quickly made their escape; The poor soul who agreed to play Yuugi at any game wouldn't be leaving the room for hours, days even.

When the door had shut, Ryou nodded cautiously. He didn't play many games, but he had some memories of them. Hopefully that would be enough to get him through until Bakura's next instructions came to him. Speak of the devil, they say_…Don't let him take that pendant off. Make sure of it pet._

Ryou watched Yuugi setting up several small pieces into formations for two teams, radiating contentment. He didn't seem to be in any danger of removing the puzzle. Why would Bakura-? After a time he realized that Yuugi was trying to explain the rules to him. He nodded halfheartedly.

After a while, during which Yuugi managed to beat him not once but four times in what was supposed to be a fairly lengthy game, Ryou gathered up the courage to ask the question always at the back of his mind. "Yuugi," he twirled one of the pieces between his fingers as he spoke, careful to avoid eye contact, "have you seen someone new around here recently? He's very important to me."

Just as cautiously Yuugi looked up from the board. "There's new people in and out of the palace a lot. You're new, aren't you?"

"Someone special." The façade faltered. Ryou couldn't resist taking Yuugi's hand in his own, trying to make him understand. "They think that he's a terrible person, but he's really not. He looks after me."

"That person…is he your lover?" Yuugi watched the 'girl' turn a bright shade of pink. Ah. It went without saying who it was then. Yuugi suddenly remembered Malik's fevered whispers in the dark. _Ryou…_The romantic in him was screaming to tell the truth.

Ryou removed his hand, twisting the object in it nervously. "I'll do anything. Just tell me where he is. I promised I wouldn't leave him."

Another memory, hazy with fear and gloom was prodding at Yuugi. He'd seen someone who looked very much like this girl that night. But then she should have wings, shouldn't she? _Tell her, tell her, tell her. You'd want someone to the same for you, if Atemu was a captive of the Thief. _But this was different. They were the good guys, and Malik was a bad guy. That was how it worked. Even if Malik hadn't seemed to be anything but tired.

From where he was sitting Ryou could see the moon come out, the stars not yet bright in the purple hues of the atmosphere. Any other time he would have taken hours just to watch the process, marveling at the simple beauty of the world. But there were more important things. "Yuugi, if you can't tell me-" I'll have to take the information from you.

But he didn't get so far. The look on Yuugi's face was as unfocused as the glitter of the stars. His face was flushed, and Ryou was sure that if he touched it the skin would be fever-hot. "Are you all right?" Bakura's words rang in his head. Don't let him take it off. "Magic?"

Yuugi was struggling to focus. Come to think, he'd looked ashen faced as the afternoon wore on, ever since he put the puzzle on. His voice was a reedy whisper. "I don't feel well. I-I think I need to go to bed." He rose and stumbled over the low table, kept from the hard floor only by Ryou's outstretched arm.

Ryou lifted the small form, looking for a bed. In the corner of the room was a massive monstrosity of plush fabric and blankets. Certainly it wasn't anything like where Bakura slept but, it would do. As gently as he could he tucked Yuugi into the bed. How was he supposed to find Malik now?

Something red caught his eye. A tiny cut near Yuugi's eye. He must have hit it when he fell. But would it work? Quiet, knowing full well that Yuugi's state wasn't going to change yet unable to shake the fear, he gathered the small trickle of blood onto his finger. The red liquid was salty to the taste, contaminated by the fever sweat and texture of skin. _Dark rooms, dark corridors, somewhere where no one ever leaves._

Destination firmly in mind he stood to go, resisting the urge to brush the golden hair from Yuugi's eyes. Maybe Bakura didn't mean to let him _die_. Maybe, maybe, maybe he was a naïve fool. "I'm so sorry."

---

There were more footsteps outside of Malik's door. Was the brat back? It wouldn't surprise him if one of Seto's mages had the uncanny sense to know that his wounds were bleeding again. But then that had been his fault, not the natural course of the wound. Too much struggling, trying to get out. All he'd gained was a lengthening of the gruesome chunk missing from his shoulder. Lovely. He'd finally be able to start catching up with Bakura in scars.

The steps grew to a more audible level. The end of the hall, midway, right in front of him. He tried for bravado. "What'd you come back for, eh? Need more proof?"

"I don't need any proof. All your memories are inside my mind, remember? Well, nearly all of them."

Ah, the angel of death. He must be worse off than he thought he was. No one else would have been able to imitate that calming voice. Strange that it was calming now. He'd been so irritated when it had first entered his ears. "Go away. I'm not dead yet." He shut his eyes tighter. Hallucinations usually went away when you ignored them.

A soft hand touched the side of his face, tracing from ear to jaw line. "You feel warm. Did they let you get sick down here?" A concerned something was leaning closer to him. Something soft brushed against his face.

"Fine, fine. Suppose I ought to look at death before I bite it." With much more effort than struggling took he cracked one eye open. Good thing death had come when it did. His eyes were very nearly caked shut from dirt and assorted fluids. Let it not be said that a wanted criminal's life isn't glamorous. "What?" He hissed.

Two thin arms closed around his neck, clinging to him and nearly cutting off his air supply. "Choking…" The figure let go. It had sounded like Ryou, it had hair like Ryou, and yet not. Hallucinations were cruel. "What are you, who do you want?" Eh, the general idea was there.

"Don't you recognize-oh." Arms round his neck again, gentler. "Bakura said that touch would make the illusion go away. At least, at least I think that's what he said."

Death was a nutter, and he answered to Bakura. Ah, Malik must be very near to Hell then. He shot the death-girl-hallucination-thing one more look, surprised to find it had gone. It was Ryou with his arms around the wounded blonde, Ryou looking at him as if in fact it was _Malik _who was off the deep end and not the rest of the world. "Ryou?"

Windpipe crushing tightness again. He would need to learn not to excite the kid. "You're all right!" He prodded Malik's wound with his fingers, noting the level of pain the prisoner reacted with. "Well, all right being relative. Bakura told me they would have killed you."

"I'll bet he did." They'd always wanted each other dead about equally. Bakura just had a reason now. Malik could guess at that reason, if not say for sure. Anyone who said anything was definitely true about the thief usually ended up dead from their ignorance. "What are you doing here?"

Ryou blinked. The he's-become-an-idiot blink. Hadn't that been Malik's? Ah, the line was blurred. Too much of himself and his mannerisms poured into the boy. Shouldn't have been possible, but there you have it. "I'm here to rescue you." Slow, deliberate, patronizing. So there was a little of Bakura's cruel streak in him too. "AndtodeliversomethingforBakura." Smart child, to get that out as fast as possible.

Malik struggled to sit up. The blood that had caused him to slide down was dry and flaky now, and after a few struggling moments he was face-to-face with Ryou. "Bakura never has anyone run harmless errands. Someone's dead, or they're going to be. He's using you. If you get caught…" He let it hang. Paranoid? Never.

Ryou touched the wound again. "If I try to move you you'll leave a trail. We have to heal you before we escape. Tomorrow Bakura's going to start his; whatever it is he's been planning." Ryou shrugged. Even that simple information was closed off to him. "We'll hurry."

He rested his head on Malik's shoulder, whispering soft nonsense words into the blonde thief's ears. Just enough to wake up the gentle white magic. It had gone into overdrive trying to heal its battered host, blocked at every turn by a body without any instinct of how to help itself.

Malik felt Ryou's warm breath on his ear, then on his cheek. Now was hardly the time to explain things. But the terrible relief and admiration in Ryou's eyes made an explanation necessary. He moved his head subtly, avoiding the kiss. "You know, Ryou, there's another reason people do-that."

Ryou frowned. He'd guessed that. Obviously most people were different than him. There just hadn't been time to ponder it to a reasonable extent. There still wasn't. "Why are you saying this now?"

Malik chuckled. It was bitter. "Because I've had that look, and I know very well what it turns into." Or what it would try to turn into. He'd quashed the sickening flutter at the sight of those icy blue eyes. Rather successfully, he liked to think.

Ryou wasn't quite the fluorescent pink that he'd been in the face of Yuugi's questions, if only because the abstract was still slightly beyond him. His stomach was tightening for some odd reason. "Malik, can't you explain this later?" He tried to reposition Malik's face, to heal him enough for their escape.

"No. It has to be now." _Because Bakura's going to kill me when he sees I made it out alive. _Malik closed Ryou's hands in his own to keep them still, looking nervously at the entrance with the clanking of the manacles. "It's a sign of affection to most people. Its something you do when you love someone. You're already confused." Bakura's fault. "Don't take those feelings from my memories and think you're in love."

Pink was descending into red. He'd left _those _memories mostly unturned before Malik had mentioned it. Now they were at the head of his mind, increasing the tight, nervous feeling to an almost unbearable degree. "I think you made it worse." He whispered. "Can't I just help you and we'll think about it later?"

If he'd had the room to maneuver Malik would have hit himself. How was it that he was so good at making things worse? "Yeah, sure." To his dismay there was a guilty flush on his own face.

It was now impossible to carry out his plan without his face growing hot, without making associations between what he needed to heal and survive and, well, other people. His lips brushed over Malik's, a jolt running between them. White sparks jumped to life in his mind's eye. Maybe this could be a good thing.

He pulled back, using a slightly harder kiss when they met again. Even with none of Bakura's experience or ferocity the results were noticeable. Under his eyes the magic found its way to the cut, closing it with ease and leaving no evidence but for a puckered range of shiny flesh. There would be a scar there for the rest of Malik's life, however long that ended up being.

"Okay. I think we can," Ryou faltered, "can go now." His eyelids were so heavy. Was this how Bakura felt? He'd never been on the giving end of the process. Would it hurt to sleep a little while? After all, who was going to come in the dead of night? Malik had taken his idea and run with it; the blonde was already asleep, his breathing slow and steady.

Ryou squirmed, adjusting himself until he too leaned against the wall, Malik's arms wrapped loosely around his waist. "Just a little while." He warned himself. And then it was back to the mirror.

Ryou was no more ready for the figure then he had been before. It terrified him, in the way only a personified nightmare can. The deepest part of ourselves is most often the part that remains most deeply hidden, and when it comes out it has a way of taking less than comforting forms.

The blood-demon didn't waste time with niceties this time; it plunged its fingers through the glass, grabbing hold of Ryou by the wrists. _I'm tired of waiting. The world lacks music; blood, screaming, the shattering of glass and bones. _It dragged Ryou to it, pulling his arms in to the elbows. The aforementioned appendages didn't appear on the other side as the other's had. They were simply…gone.

Screaming was just as impossible as it had been before. This was his dream! Shouldn't he be more in control of it than this? _You are only a surface extension of myself. You are no longer needed. _He was in up to the forearm now.

Above them the sky was beginning to crack, the fracture spreading in small spider webs to reveal movement beyond it. The reflection emitted a small _tch, _before vanishing.

The sight of the waking world was scarcely more comforting. Malik's arms were tight around him, almost painful so. He opened his mouth to complain, then felt an icy stare on him. Malik was matching that cold look with one of his own, fiery but equal. "Touch one hair on his head and I'll kill you. I don't care what you are now, I'll dismember your corpse."

Soft laughter met his bold statement. Ryou shivered. "You're not in much of a place to argue, are you?" The newcomer had a calculating voice, eerily calm. "You can't even move beyond where you are now. And I have always been more powerful."

The embrace grew tighter still. Ryou squirmed, trying at least to free his wings from the encasement. "I knew you were a bastard, Seto. I just didn't know you were evil."

"This is not evil. It is only doing what must be done." The voice seemed a touch perturbed now. Ryou craned his neck, trying to see. In the corner of his vision appeared the man whom he'd seen in the lab, the one with the frozen blue eyes. He stopped struggling immediately, instead trying to make himself as small as he could beside Malik. The mage laughed. "I thought I had only a useless assistant whom I couldn't harm for fear of crippling the king. And here, delivered into my hands is the one creature that could draw out the thief!"

Ryou's eyes widened, whites all the way around. He should be in disguise, a useless (if oddly placed) servant. This wasn't right. The tight grip brought Bakura's warning to him. _Don't let anyone touch you. _In an attempt to shield them Malik had doomed them both. "I won't tell you anything." He spat, trying to look brave.

"Hn." Seto closed the distance between himself and the captives, wrenching Ryou forcefully from Malik's grasp. "You don't have to. All you have to do is come with me like a good child. And the better you behave the less excruciating his suffering will be." He jerked his thumb towards Malik.

Ryou struggled fruitlessly. Even his borrowed magic was useless, dampened by sleep, fear, and the sheer chill that the man emitted. "He won't come. You may as well just let us go. Bakura will complete his mission, with or without us."

Seto's smile was tight, but his eyes glittered with a small victory. "_Bakura_, eh? He doesn't give names to many of his people, I've heard. Prefers to keep them as pawns." He let go of Ryou, muttering soft, senseless words. Ryou felt a stiffness spreading from his feet upward. "You are going to prove useful indeed."

Malik was screaming, it sounded like. Muffled and faraway, blocked by a thick wall that he couldn't see. Seto was dragging him somewhere, and part of him didn't care. This suited his purpose, the job he was made to do. Hidden in Ryou's deepest core a horrible voice was laughing.

---

Next Time: Bakura's plan hit's a snag. A short, white haired snag, to be precise. And rescue missions never were the Thief King's strong point.


	6. Crescendo

I hate action sequences, I do I do. But I'm trying to make up for the period it took to get this'n done and out. And contrary to what on would believe from reading this fic, I actually _like_ Seto…Probably one more chapter and an epilogue to go.

Disclaimer: I don't own it, Takahashi does. I only wish to borrow and possibly bastardize his characters.

---

Back and forth, back and forth, every inch of this courtyard had been covered by invisible footprints. And invisible or no, to someone so paranoid as Bakura remaining in one place for such a long period of time was the same as painting a bright red target on one's face, invisible or no.

. Not Ryou, never Ryou. The boy's useful status and undeniable charm had elevated him to a status that made him rather untouchable in terms of criticism; weakness in any other soul, but perfect logic by Bakura's mind. This was all to do with the palace brat. Always tampering with his plans, messing where he shouldn't and being a general hindrance. He had convinced Ryou, some way or other, that his worthless life was more important than the mission. _Nothing_ was more important than the mission. 

And surely Malik, in his infinite ability to interfere, had seen that this would be the most crucial stage. Without Ryou he had no means of getting in to see the king's brat. The word _hostage_ was so petty, so inaccurate. More that Ryou would be a most helpful shield with perfectly capable defensive abilities. He'd planted that thought with care: midnight in the central courtyard. Now, where was his pet?

Visions conjured themselves before his eyes, his two underlings joining forces with his enemies and plotting to slaughter him. They planned to paint the walls red with his blood, make it the christening of that wretched king's rule. And Ryou would be the one to betray him.

"I'll kill him first." He purred, low and sadistic. The blonde palace brat dead, dead, dead, and Ryou all covered in his blood. Shaking and quaking and begging Bakura to forgive him. And Bakura would comply, merciful as he was. But first he would _suffer_, cry and beg for death. Nothing pleased the Thief more than blood.

Footsteps pattered on the stones across the stretch of space and he stiffened. Only servants, speaking in hushed tones despite the apparent emptiness of the night. Bakura leaned in to listen, his chin resting on the back of his hand.

"His fever just keeps spiking, the healers don't know what to do. Did you find Seto?"

"Its like he just disappeared. Bastard. The one time that he could actually be useful, and nobody knows where he is!" The voice growled, and swore. "Maybe he's not as powerful as he wants us to think."

"Jonouchi! You'd better be wrong. No one else can figure out what's wrong. Poor Atemu…"

The voices faded as the pair entered the building. Bakura's face split side to side in a grin. Illusions were his specialty, so true, but it pays when trying to assassinate someone to know a few untraceable curses. Ryou had at least completed the first part of his mission. "I should go check on the king's brat. Terribly concerned for his welfare, yes, and if the king just happens to be there," he took off at a run, aiming for one of the lower windows "then lucky, lucky me."

With difficulty he held down a high pitched laugh. He could finish things off now. With practiced footsteps he stalked the halls, listening for the direction with the greatest commotion. Ah, but what's this? The thief's eyes caught on a solitary figure, heading not towards the ill favorite of his beloved ruler but deep into the bowels of the palace. The man was clutching several scrolls to his chest, his feet making a steady tap-tap-tap on the hard floors. Interesting.

Careful to keep in the shadows that preserved his invisibility the thief slunk after the mage, ignoring for the first time the nagging voices in his head. _Curiosity killed the cat_.

---

Hurt, everything hurt. That meant that he wasn't dead. The twitching in his toes meant he could still blink, the aches in his back meant he could still think, and the pounding headache in his skull was the indication that he was still (sadly) thinking.

Next things next, where was here? Fighting against some fifty pounds of invisible weight Ryou forced his eyes open, groaning as the dim light forced its way into the eye of his headache, aggravating it. Restraints kept him down as he tried to move. Any strength he'd had to struggle was gone with whatever bizarre magical fusion had happened in the holding cell, a million years ago. He could be anywhere now, any time.

"You should lie still, or you'll aggravate the problem. I can't recast that spell on you so soon without killing your body." The mage that had kidnapped him was sitting at a desk nearby, his hands wrapped around his eyes as though he couldn't bear the light either. From Ryou's limited line of vision he could see that the desk was piled high with papers.

Ignoring the command as stubbornly as Malik would have, he tried again to break free, arching his back in a vain attempt to gain leverage. Nothing, unless a new wave of dull throbbing counted as something. "Why do you care? You're just using me to lure him out, and then you'll kill us both. I might as well suffer until then, right?"

If physical resistance didn't help, maybe metaphysical would. Ryou prodded the nearly empty reserves in his skull, finding the magic sluggish and slow, almost congealed for lack of a better visual cue. It moved to respond to his commands, but with none of the usual speed. By the time it had reached to where he needed it they would all be dead.

Seto ignored the baiting, calmly speaking as though Ryou were simply another one of his petulant students. "Magic is tied intrinsically to the blood. If you slow down a person's heart then you slow the speed with which they can fight. Its effects can last hours, days even, depending on its strength." Seto's eyes flashed, and frigid power reached out to brush across Ryou's face. He pushed away from the desk. "A mage of my status could have easily made such a spell powerful enough to kill you. Your lifeless corpse would have been bait enough." He stood over Seto, looking not at him but through him. "Do you understand? I didn't have to keep you alive."

"It was a whim then." Ryou failed miserably at exerting the same abrupt tone, but it was an admirable effort. "I know all about what you did to Malik then, and how much Bakura hates you now. If you haven't killed me yet its because you want me to suffer."

Even his laughter was patronizing, a teacher built from the bottom traits up. "You are a fool if you believe all that those two have poured into your brain." His shoulders lost some of their noble rigidity. Tired, so very tired. "The world is not divided among one cause or the other. Ryou, was it? You'll find that people are all puppeteer by their own desires." The restraints fell away with a flick of elegant fingers. "Although those deeper into insanity like your friend," his lips curled over the word friend, "are much more dangerous than the traitor or myself."

Even without the bonds holding him down Ryou found it difficult to move. His muscles moved to obey his mind, but the flesh around it was agonizingly slow and unyielding. Sitting up alone left the white haired boy shaking and gasping for breath. "What, now then?" The curt effect was somewhat undone by the labored breathing.

Seto retrieved the chair from the desk, sitting now beside the long observation table. He interlocked his fingers, changed again. Now before Ryou stood not a teacher but the mind of an ever inquisitive student that dwells inside every soul ever to learn. Ryou's heart gave the smallest tug. A kindred soul in that respect.

"I wanted to question you." He waved his hand, warding off further angry protests. "Not on that psychotic kleptomaniac. I don't need to ask questions about that; and fool with eyes could have guessed how involved you were with the other side." The comment brought pink to the captive's cheeks, but Seto pressed on. "I want to know about your makeup. You are our kingdom's greatest weapon, in theory. And yet in the times I've seen you you've acted not only _not _in a manner befitting a weapon but as though you are completely helpless."

Ryou squirmed, grasping for an answer. His natural instinct was to actually _answer_, but the voice born of his few days with the paranoid screamed that the truth was something given immediately before death, preferably theirs. "I-I don't know. My memory's not great." A non-answer is an answer for both camps.

Seto made a small noise of disapproval, reaching his arms toward the desk to grasp several of the thick sheets. One by one he laid them out for Ryou. "These are plans for a weapon of destruction." he pointed to one page of decoded notes, and sketches of a skeletal body similar to Ryou's.

Ryou shuddered. Too much, it was too much like the man in the mirror. With rubbery fingers he picked up another drawing, sketches of the smaller healer. "What about this one?"

Seto shook his head. "There were no other bodies in that laboratory, nor were there any signs that there had been in any recent stretch of time." He reclaimed the sketch, replacing it among the others.

"Surely you must know something you can tell me?" He gripped Ryou's face tightly with one hand. From here Ryou could see the dark lines beneath the mage's eyes. "If I know how it is that you were made, I can use that information to protect the people. A defective model's no good to me."

"Mmmmm, now even if he did know something in that fluffy white head of his, he wouldn't tell the king's lap dog. I trained him better than that." Low laughter filled the room, building up to the higher hysteria that had been held back since the upper ranges of the castle. "You're losing your touch."

The owner of the voice dislodged itself from the shadows, forming a corporal body from the mass of darkness. It was frightening no matter how often one saw it. A shadow, impossibly large even for the sizeable thief, snaked out across the walls. It detached itself, knocking Seto against the far wall with a dull thud. Unhindered, Bakura leapt upon the table, balancing on the balls of his feet before Ryou.

Something was wrong here. Despite the small, heated touches Bakura was now bestowing upon him, searching for wounds, his eyes were untouchably cold. Better to grovel now, just in case. "Bakura, I didn't-"

"Shut up." The thief pulled Ryou's sluggish body against him, held him. His grip was tight enough to leave half moons in the boy's shoulders. "Punishment, pet," he whispered, "but not in front of the enemy." He looked over to the dazed mage, Diabound curled around the pair to protect them should Seto get up again. When Bakura spoke, it was loud enough to reverberate across the room. "Thought you could outsmart me, didn't you?"

Laughter, but not the laughter that would have been appropriate to the situation. This was not the laughter of the desperate but triumphant laughter, something for someone holding their trump card. "I did." Seto wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. "Awfully cramped in here, isn't it?" The tone was light, conversational. "Difficult for such a sizeable creature as yours to move around in."

The temperature was taking a drastic drop around them. Ryou could see his breath, curling as faint white smoke into the air. Ice was beginning to form in thick sheets on the walls and floor. The source of the cold spell seemed perfectly comfortable, his pale skin and demeanor now perfectly at home in its natural environment.

Short icicles protruded from Seto's fingertips, sharp and deadly. He raised them to eyelevel, wriggling the makeshift knives mockingly. "The Thief King I've fought would never forget the huge change in advantage of a small space. But I guess _Bakura _has other things to worry about."

Bakura tightened his hold on Ryou further, furious with himself. He ignored the small, pained protests of his captive, searching for a way to get to the door without leaving himself wide open for an attack. There would be no quick escape in these conditions.

Ryou struggled to get away, his air constricted. The bandages around his chest and back were beginning to crack, the sweat absorbed by the cloth expanding in the cold. "What do we do?"

Bakura sneered. "You do nothing. Its all you can do." He released his grip, drawing Diabound closer around them at the same time. The two fighters tensed, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Not a twitch stirred the air, nor a whisper of breath. Bakura shifted his foot backwards, cracking the ice that had started to form on the table.

The crack sounded like a shot in the silence, loud enough to push the two of them into action. The thief and the mage appeared to be only blurs, so fast did the rhythm of blow and parry transpire. Ryou watched with wide eyes, struggling only to keep up.

It was painfully clear who had the upper hand. Although the Bakura had yet to sustain a wound, it was impossible to hold his ground on the slick terrain, and Diabound was hindered to the point of being almost useless by the low ceiling. He swore, rolling across the ice to escape the jab of Seto's knives.

The mage paused, balancing easily on the ice. He appeared to be genuinely disappointed. "You really have lost your touch." He knelt in front of Bakura, who had frozen in mid gesture when the mage had appeared so close; the move had shaken in. "Maybe I really should just kill you now. Eh?" His eyes caught the parchment jutting out from Bakura's cloak, the same that he'd stolen from the lab. The ice crept up over Bakura's hands, holding him prone.

Seto took the papers from his enemy casually, one more insult. "Logs." His smile was small but very satisfied. "This may be all I need to know." He raised the ice before him again, lengthening the knives to a length that would easily skewer the thief. "I have no use for you. For your many sins I will act as your final judgment."

Ryou's eyes widened. Bakura was going to die. With the way he was moving now he wouldn't even be able to act as a shield, much less offer some kind of aid that would service them both.

Let me help you…

Terror stricken, Ryou opened his eyes wider. Shutting them meant seeing that terrible face. The voice wasn't supposed to follow him into his waking hours. It wasn't!

You want to save him, don't you? Poor little Ryou.

Ryou shot a panicked look toward Seto and Bakura. He had a few seconds. Maybe.

The knives were moving, aimed directly over Bakura's heart. Ryou shut his eyes.

A wonderful feeling spread from his chest outward, head to toes and fingers and then out into the air around them. It was gloriously warm, dispelling the ice. The beleaguered bandages cracked and fell away, leaving black and white in its full glory, the feathered tips hanging over the edge of the table. A thud echoed in the room. Ryou opened his eyes.

The ice was gone, reduced to an ankle deep ooze of slush. Seto's fist had impacted with the thief's chest, but his weapons were temporarily reduced to the same non-threatening pulp. His eyes widened in surprise, and Bakura took the opportunity to land a blow to the mage's face, scrambling to get a safe distance away and drawing a short sword for good measure.

The look Bakura shot him screamed, and Ryou could only wonder the very same thing. The warmth in him burned solidly in his chest, and it was only then he realized how remarkably cold he'd felt in his existence. Was this what it was to have magic? 

He tried to call on the warmth, spread it again outwards from his fingers, but it slid through his grasp time and again, retreating from his call.

Ryou fancied that he could see the skeletal figure before him, arms folded in impatience. _But it feels nice, doesn't it? _A smirk formed on his lips. Ryou cut him off, jumping from the table. He was an open target there. He joined Bakura, hiding in the thief's shadow. "What do we do now?" He whispered, eyes flickering from Seto to the door and back again. 

Bakura said nothing, a marked improvement from the jeer he'd thrown at the question before. Whatever the thief was thinking it was with new, dare he say, respect? The silence stretched thin between the two parties, neither sure enough of the other to attack.

"Give me a second." The thief's voice was low, barely audible even to Ryou. "I need to collect my," he staggered a half step, one hand moving to cover a wound in his side. Not all of Seto's attacks had missed their mark. The image of Diabound flickered, hazing in and out of focus with the rivulets of blood seeping between his fingers. The stunned look on the mage's face was changing to one of smugness.

Magic is linked to blood, Seto had said. Fearful, Ryou sought to contact the haughty voice, desperate for healing aid. But either he was going about it wrong or the other was seeking to punish him, for there was no response. The white haired boy growled, a decent impression of Bakura, shoving his hands over the wound anyway in desperation.

Cool water seemed to be moving in him now. It didn't offer the exhilaration of the heat, but it did wonders for his concentration. Level headed and unperturbed by the turn of events, he removed Bakura's hand from beneath his own, calmly urging the tissue to knit itself together, the flesh to close over the wound…

"Proving yourself to be dead useful, aren't you?" Bakura's voice was dry, and a little disappointed. He'd have to kill something or someone else to make up for the ire of the bloodlust. Luckily, there was a ready-made victim right in front of them. "Get back. Get out as soon as there's an opening."

This time Bakura didn't bother with Diabound. Grasping the hilt of his short sword he rushed the mage, taking the brief stunned silence as a well deserved initiative. Seto raised a hand to defend himself, succeeding in the lateness of the moment only of knocking the blade off course. The blade buried itself in the mage's abdomen, far enough that a glint of bloodied silver showed out the other side.

Bakura drove the blade in to the hilt, using his weight to do as much damage as possible. Satisfied, he released his grip, surveying his enemy with an insulting casualness from his close positioning. Not enough, the mage's small, wet gasps of pain weren't enough repayment for his rage. What else would be fitting?

It came to him in a delightful sadistic flash. He raised his hand, fingers dripping with blood. Seto, for his part, was still standing upright, a feat of bravery in itself, though more likely a feat of pride. Those bloody fingers rested on Seto's face, rested there long enough to leave behind bloody fingers. It was the same deceptive gentleness he'd shown before his army. From his safe position near the door Ryou flinched. Whatever was going to happen would be horrible.

The fingers drabbled upwards, tapping on the mage's temples. Bakura smiled at him. "How dare you presume that such a simple trap would catch me." The fingers pressed down, applying pressure on the tender flesh of the other man's eyelids. "How dare you touch what is mine. Your eyes are unworthy." The skin gave under the force upon it, leaving the gelatinous masses beneath unprotected. Vindicated, Bakura continued to dig with a terrifying composure, ruining the delicate orbs. When blood and fluid covered them both he joined Ryou on the other side of the room. "Go."

Ryou's hands were clasped over his mouth. His stomach churned, longing for some kind of content to force out, and finding not even bile. Horrible, worse than the neck snapping, and the mage hadn't uttered a single scream. He was bent over now, his form shaking, but still he was silent. When Bakura spoke he did as he was told, wanting to remain on the side of the line that wouldn't result in punishment. "Why?" It slipped out before he could stop it.

Bakura snarled, slamming Ryou against a wall when they were safely away from any prying eyes. "That would have been you, if I didn't need you. Count your blessings." He forced his face close to Ryou's until their foreheads were pressed together. "You didn't complete your task. You abandoned your duty to run after that fool. I have no use for traitors."

A cold knot had settled in Ryou's stomach. Unless he was very, very careful this was the end of his line. "I did what you said. I delivered the necklace. You didn't tell me anything else. I thought-I thought it would be all right to find Malik."

The heat in Bakura's eyes receded, replaced by a calculating curiosity. "And did you find him?" He cupped Ryou's chin in his hand, running his thumb along the jaw line. "Did you find the brat?" His gaze dared Ryou to lie. Ryou nodded. Words were dangerous right now. Better not to use them.

Bakura smiled, managing to imbue it with a terrifying connotation. "Then take me to him. I'm sure he'll be wanting our…assistance." There was one more punishment in store for his pet. The brat, it seemed, would get to serve one final purpose.

---

A hand was shaking his shoulder. "You really need some sleep, your Highness." The shaking grew more persistent. "And not here." Hadn't he been sleeping? Blearily Atemu raised his head from the soft material of the bed he sat beside. He turned sluggishly to the left and right, looking for the origin of the voice.

Jonouchi was looking at him with a concerned expression. "You look like shit, man. You need sleep." He looked over at the small figure turning fitfully in the bed. "He's not going to get better just because you became an insomniac."

Atemu brushed away the hand on his shoulder. "Did you find Seto?" His voice was hoarse. Eating or drinking would have meant eventually leaving the bedside, and he wouldn't, couldn't, do that. Not until he knew Yuugi was better.

Jonouchi shook his head. The look inn his eyes was almost pitying. "Everywhere. He's not here, not in the palace or the city. He's just gone." Mingled with the pity was obvious contempt for the mage.

"Look one more time." Atemu settled his head back on his arms, his eyes heavy. "As my friend, please." His eyes closed. Asleep again.

Jonouchi nodded, even if the king wasn't awake to see it, and left the room. It was ridiculous-hadn't he combed every inch of the palace? And yet he understood. A small, frustrated part told him to round the floor once and tell Atemu that there was no change. Another part wanted assuage the king's fears, find the cure for his worries. So instead he began to work his way from the mage's wing down. If it had been Anzu-

His foot came down with a splash instead of a click. Startled, Jonouchi looked down to see small, pinkish streams running down the corridor from one of the far rooms. That definitely hadn't been there on his last round. Cautiously he pressed his back to the wall outside the door, hearing small pained sounds within. "Who's there?"

A louder groan. "It would have to be you." Only one voice could be that disdainful within such a short sentence. Jonouchi charged in, ready to retort. It died in his throat at the sight of the scene. Water still clung to the floor, though a great deal was now making its way down the hall. Nearest the mage the puddles were a thick, deep red color, and the mage himself was crumpled in an undignified heap.

Jonouchi ran the short distance, kneeling beside his bitter rival. "What the hell happened?" His eyes took in the blood, the sword, last the ruined eyes. He let out a low whistle. "We need to get you some help."

"Just my luck I get someone Mundane." Mundane, someone without any magical gift at all-it was a rare trait, and Jonouchi worked all the harder because of it. With a feeble gesture Seto summoned a few sheaves of paper to him, protected by the messy fluid by an encompassing shield. "Read these, if you can. My vision is less than optimal due to circumstances," he sucked in a deep breath, blood trickling from his mouth "beyond my judgment."

Jonouchi took the papers, eyeing them skeptically. There was no point in arguing. It would waste precious time, and much as Jonouchi hated the mage he knew that Seto was one of their more useful assets. He brought the first sheet to his eyes, reading slowly to decipher the scratchy handwriting. "Day six…"

Day Six

Test subject one stabilized, shows promise. Now approaching week mark, longer than all other test subjects. Cell donor, female, age eight. Unable to recuperate from donation.

Day Eight

Test subject Amane responding well to testing, cell manipulation. Possibility of aptitude for healing.

Day Twelve

Donors selected. Boy, age seven, shows potential for secondary construction. Has withstood donation more agreeably than previous donor.

Day Fifteen

Test subject Two, unnamed, shows aptitude for dark magic, highly potent power levels. Amane reacts badly to imported cells. Hoping to stabilize within the coming days. Donor two has eluded captivity…

Day Twenty Six

Forced to transfer remaining data from Amane into test subject two, tentatively "Ryou". Vitals have altered drastically-shows little aptitude for either magic. Cells appear to be in dormancy.

Day Forty Eight.

Subject requires donation of blood and tissue from scientists. Estimates suggest that Ryou may require more than can be donated as maturation continues.

Here there were several missing pages. Jonouchi glanced over at Seto, unsure as to the importance of it. Seto nodded, silently urging him to continue. His breath was rattling now. The handwriting had changed abruptly on the following pages.

Log 93

Due to the death of the previous recorder dates of progress now only able to be approximated. Location for blood donation suggested as same from which tissue donor was retrieved. Suggestion is under review.

Log 96

Suggestion has been carried out under the approval of the higher authority. Kul Elna shall serve as means to continue the experiment.

Log 104

Ryou continues to show cells in a dormant state. Moods are beginning to grow frustrated. Suggested that gathered DNA is ineffective. Donor, however, seems to display wealth of power. Evaluated as too dangerous to recapture for second data collection.

The rest of the page and the ones following it were spotty and illegible from dried blood. "That's all there is."

Seto nodded, hissing in pain as he did so. Jonouchi put his arms under the mage's figure, trying to approximate how best to carry him without disturbing the sword or aggravating the injuries. "Who did this to you, anyway."

"Thief." Seto croaked, bearing the jostling as nobly as he could. "Snuck into the palace. Escaped."

"Shit." Atemu was probably still asleep, a wide open target. Jonouchi cursed himself with all the breath he could spare, trying to make his movements faster.

---

Malik was precisely where Ryou had left him, if looking more faded and hopeless. He did have the energy to shoot Bakura a glare that would have melted the flesh from a lesser man. Bakura only laughed and brushed past Ryou into the room. "Go keep watch." Malik's stomach churned as he watched Ryou obey. Just like that, without question.

Bakura knelt beside the blonde, surveying the chains. "Weak." He severed them easily, drawing another of the myriad of blades from his coat. The phrase hadn't been aimed solely at the bonds. The moment he was free Malik aimed a punch at the thief, one easily caught. Bakura gripped the fist, tightening his hold enough that bones began to crack and protest. "Now isn't the time for such petty quarrels."

"Like hell its not. What did you do?" They both knew to what he referred. "He wasn't like that before this whole mess started. He asked questions, he was a damn pain. Always talking, pushing, stubborn. You've sucked the life out of him, like you do with everything." He freed his fist, nursing it close to his chest. His skin crawled with revulsion from an unwittingly shared memory. It made it nigh impossible to look Bakura straight in the face.

Bakura shrugged, toying with the knife in his hands. "Blame yourself, then, for walking into this mess. Anything that I may have 'sucked out of him', as you put it, he put willingly on the line for the sake of your safety." He stood, waiting to see if Malik would do the same. "I have a mission to finish, and so do you. Or have you forgotten your head over one useless face?"

Malik's cheeks flushed. He stood, not about to be undone by the Thief King, to be below him in any way. "I haven't forgotten." He shoved past into the hall, where Ryou waited for them. Unable to restrain himself, Malik reached out a hand and ruffled that white hair. Ryou smiled, shyly. The twisting feeling in his stomach had made an unfortunate reappearance. He squeezed Malik's hand before allowing his own to drop back to his side.

Bakura was the last, eyeing the sight of the two of them with fury. _Calm, calm_, the voices told him. _Don't let this one thing ruin it when you're so close. _And the competition would be gone very shortly anyway. "Move, unless you would like to be returned to a similar, more heavily guarded cell." He moved himself pointedly between Ryou and Malik, walking with a purposeful stride.

Malik raised an eyebrow. So that was how it would be. Fine. He relished the challenge. Though they could make no noise as they made their way to their destination, he maneuvered himself so that in one of the narrower corridors Ryou was between them, and intertwined his hand with the pale one. Ryo looked back, surprised, but didn't object.

Bakura bit back a retort. He peered round a corner, pulling Ryou around with him by the waist when he want. "There's more people up here." He muttered into Ryou's ear. The boy was a delightful shade of red. "Stay near me." 

Malik kept behind them, cursing Bakura silently in every language he knew and several that he invented solely for the occasion. Death, dismemberment, and agonizing torture. The thief had managed to rack himself up quite a punishment in one small move.

"Here." But instead of entering through the door Bakura hoisted himself through a window, edging along the thin jut of stone that edged the outer wall. Malik followed with a single audible curse, pulling Ryou with him. He hated heights, and the thief knew it.

The balcony was no less concealed than the door had been, Malik was sure of that. The stunt had been only to prove him a coward, and Malik had outdone him on that. When Ryou was safely inside he surveyed the ground, looking for people who might have noticed them. Late in the night as it was the grounds were deserted. Why did Bakura have to have such uncanny luck? Had he originated the move there would have been a dozen witnesses.

Ryou had wandered away from the blonde, admiring the opulence of the room. It was the very one that he'd left earlier that evening, where that boy lived. A small note of remorse struck at Ryou's heart. Was he going to be all right? Was he the intended victim? No. Bakura's eyes were filled with a terrifying bloody light, but it was directed at someone that Ryou had never seen before. The second man looked extraordinarily like Yuugi, who was now lying very still, shaking and drenched in sweat in his sleep. The other man seemed to be holding vigil for the sleeping mage.

Bakura raised the short knife, running the sharp edge back and forth over his fingers though it was shredding the calloused skin. "Finally. Finally after all these years." He approached the sleeping figure slowly and deliberately. "Stole me from me home, laid waste to all that I have known and loved." He raised the blade. "The sins of the father shall be visited upon the son." He brought down the knife, ramming it through the man's back until it showed on the other side.

But it wasn't the man who cried out, nor him who bled. Much to Ryou's horror it was Malik who toppled to the floor, clutching his chest with both hands to stop the gushing blood that was escaping. Ryou looked from Bakura and the man, to Malik, and back. "What's going on?" He cried, not bothering to mask the volume of his voice any longer. Something was wrong, wrong, horribly wrong.

Bakura extracted the knife; the man was already healed, showing no sign of the injury which plagued Malik. "If only you'd done as I told you, you wouldn't have had to see." He sounded regretful, as though Ryou had made him do it. "He has to die, pet. He's the king's second life. If only you'd listened, I wouldn't have had to make you watch." One rough hand removed Ryou's hands from his eyes, holding his arms behind him. The other hand grasped the poor boy's chin, forcing his gaze to where Malik writhed and choked on the floor.

"Bakura, you sick…bastard. You knew. He shouldn't, have," a bubble of blood blossomed and burst from the blonde's lips, and the remainder of his words came out garbled and wet. Ryou let out a low moan with every choking gasp. Shock held his body to the ground. The puddle of blood was beginning to expand outward, lapping over Ryou's bare feet.

With a wretched sob he at last began to struggle, to try and undo the damage. Bakura only laughed and held him tighter as the blood puddle surrounded the three of them. His face was buried in Ryou's hair, the laughter muffled into it but all the more horrible that way, all the more just for him. "Stop. Please, stop." Malik had stopped moving. His eyes were beginning to grow glazed and far off. He wasn't moving, just like the boy in the square.

When Ryou ceased to struggle Bakura forced him to his knees, further into the puddle of blood. With his own hands Bakura gathered small amounts of it, petting Ryou's hair with fingers that were irredeemably red. "Red is such a beautiful color, pet. It suits you." Ryou's frame shook, overcome with the horror of it all.

Do you want him to pay?

He's all I have. If he goes away I'll be all alone.

Not if we don't hurt him too badly. Just for a few minutes, that's all.

No, I-

Do you want to stay here, then, covered in the blood of someone you 'cared' about?

The reply was very small.

Thought not.

The change in Ryou was immediate, and frightening. He shoved Bakura away, standing so that blood ran down his front . Bakura raised a hand, suspicious. The not-Ryou laughed, licking blood from his hands and away from his face as best he could reach. "Feels so much better." He purred. It was an eerie likeness of Bakura, tempered by Ryou's soft spoken, higher lilt.

Bakura backed away, holding his knife before him. Whatever the change was, this thing was a true threat. Its eyes were a pure red, the color of blood in the veins. It radiated power. "It was you who disabled the mage."

"Yes. It was an amusement to watch you dismemberment." The not-Ryou raised a hand, shaking one finger back and forth in a _tsk-tsk _gesture. "But don't get your hopes up. I have no allegiances, except to wherever blood might be spilt."

This thing was something that must be gotten rid of then. Ryou was gone, and the not-Ryo compromised the mission. He held his knife before him. "Then we settled this. I have other things to do."

Spidery fingers tossed the blood-streaked white hair out of the way, so that the bloody eyes were un-obscured by white. "Awfully eager to die, aren't you?" But he raised his hands, then forced them together. Not a gesture of prayer, but of summoning.

Footsteps not far away distracted the skeletal creature. He growled, freeing his hands without finishing the spell. There were other things to worry about at the second. There was a blonde man in the door, and with him the mage-remarkably standing, his most critical wounds healed, though (the not-Ryou was pleased to see) he remained sightless.

Jonouchi rubbed his eyes, trying to process the scene before him. Atemu wasn't dead, there were what looked like two Thief Kings. And there was another young man, dead on the floor. "What the hell is going on in here."

The not-Ryou began to giggle, his laughter reaching pitches that no mortal voice was capable of. "I'm going to kill you all." He clasped his hands together again. "Have you said your prayers?"

"You will do no such thing." Atemu walked slowly and deliberately to Jonouchi and Seto, still visibly exhausted. He gazed sadly down at Malik's body, silently praying for the unfortunate young man. He turned his gaze to his long time pursuer. "Bakura, we will end this tonight."

More giggling, not insane but truly joyous at the thought of so much death. "Let's begin then, shall we?"

---

Next Time: In battle and its aftermath, it seems as if getting what you wanted has a way of leaving you empty inside.


	7. Eulogy

In order to properly appreciate the effort of banging out the first half of this penultimate chapter, I would like you all to find a very sharp surface and bang your heads against it. Good, good. So for that you ought to enjoy it, even if it came out rather…less well than I had hoped. Still, there's an epilogue to go, which I hope to get out in a few days rather than in a week. Here's to hoping. And a thanks to my dear Constant Readers. I heart you.

Disclaimer: YuGiOh is the property of Kazuki Takahashi. If I owned it there would be a severe shift in the ratio of plot to card games.

----

Those last words hung heavy in the air between the enemies. It was an unusual dynamic; the king and the thief against the homicidal berserker, and yet the thief stood on his own as well. Atemu spoke from the corner of his mouth, wise enough to know taking his eyes from the bloody figure would mean death. "What is it?"

Jonouchi could only shrug. His every sense was on edge, making thinking more difficult than it usual was (if one had asked Seto, thinking was a state that the guard entered rarely if at all). The blinded mage let out a haughty breath, unable to resist. "Even when we have the same information you're stupid." Not waiting for the blonde's response he went on speaking in much the same manner as Atemu. "My father told me once, before he died, that he and several others had undertaken a project which went far beyond the scope of your father's knowledge. The result is what you see before you."

Across the room the white haired boy put a hand on his hip, making small impatient sounds. The arrival of these new players ought to mean _killing_; but where was the fun if he simply rushed them and slit their throats? Still, the unintelligible mutterings were wearing away at his patience. Either they finished quickly or they died without a fight.

"Something went….wrong, as I gather, while they were working. The only way to maintain the project was by using mass amounts of sacrifices as nourishment for the subject. They selected a village, keeping one alive because he had been the DNA basis for the subject. You remember the 'plagues' that struck Kul Elna, excluding one little boy?" That little boy wasn't so little any more, nor so harmless. But how were they to know?

Atemu's eyes widened until white showed around every bit of the purple irises. "Then, this creature is-"

"An extension of the thief, yes. But it seems whatever they added to the mix made it unstable. Beyond that I don't know. The papers I found were incomplete. Its only by a good amount of guesswork that I've arrived at this conclusion. it's a fact, if not a well known one, about the thief's origins. And there's a resemblance between the two…"

A small vein twitched in the corner of his forehead. Enough! "I'm tired of waiting. Come at me, so I can hear you scream." He twitched his pale fingers in a 'come hither' gesture, stretching lazily.

A corresponding vein appeared in Jonouchi's temple. "That bastard-he's mocking us!" Irrational as ever when angry, the blonde warrior stepped to the front of the small trio. "I'll get rid of you myself." He popped his knuckles, stretching his neck back and forth so that it too made that unnerving popping sound. Had either of them been able to, they might have commented that the stare down was similar to an old western movie.

With one appraising flick of his eyes Ryou's alter ego managed to size up Jonouchi. He grinned, a chuckle of a much lower and more sinister timbre following. "A hand to hand fighter. Very quaint. Is the sword at your side for decoration?"

The little vein grew, several small joining in to cluster around it. "None of your business! What's it matter to you how we fight?" Truthfully the sword WAS little more than decoration. He had learned the basics, but he'd learned combat as an urchin fighting on the streets. Some habits just didn't change.

The berserker was not impressed. Bravado, false bravado. But did his fighting skills match up to his mouth? "I will use the same base manner of combat then." A roll of eyes; he knew every style there was to know in combat, and they were going to beat on each other with their fists? And it was so much harder to procure blood this way. "I'll even take the first move."

He moved at a speed that left room only for afterimages, striking Jonouchi on the arm with one extended finger. He retreated to a safe distance, evidently pleased with himself. The blonde scoffed. "You're going to hit me with your fingers? And I was worried." He raised his arms again to defend himself…or tried. His left arm obeyed with practiced ease. The right, however, remained limply at his side, numb and reduced to so much dead weight. "What the hell?"

"Acupressure." The demon chirped. He rocked back on forth on his heels, a child with a secret. "All I have to do is hit the right points, and you'll be a defenseless bag of blood." The thin, cordlike muscles in his legs tensed for another round, his hands hung loosely at his sides. "Shall we go again?"

Jonouchi recognized the afterimage as he saw it this time. From behind him there was a whistling sound, something thin cutting the air. He hit the floor, rolling to a spot a few feet away. His opponent was crouched in the spot where he had stood only a moment before, glaring daggers. Jonouchi's working arm came up again. "Did you expect me to just stand there?"

The glaring image wavered, then disappeared, and a heavy force struck the warrior from behind. He went to his knees, his right arm now as heavy and useless as the left. A voice breathed in his ear. "You're not any fun. Too slow, stupid. I don't want to play with you."

So reminiscent of Seto was the phrasing that Jonouchi's body responded on autopilot. He brought his leg up, swinging the foot so that it connected with the body behind him. "Shut up!" The body landed several feet away, an ugly bruise spreading from neck to jaw.

The maneuver would have broken the neck of a normal fighter. 'Ryou' merely sat up, nursing the bruised area with small pained noises and a murderous expression. He would have to let the other one out to heal himself, and that would be the end of things. "That hurt." Breaking the terms of the fight he sent out his magic, seeing it in his mind's eye as daggers.

A cut appeared under Jonouchi's eye, another on his shoulder. A third, far deeper than the first two, cut his leg down to the bone. Unable to bear weight with the added injury said legs buckled treacherously beneath him. Had it been Seto, or even Atemu, the damage would have been laughable; but a mundane has no ability to cast magic, and as a consequence no ability to defend against it.

The berserker crossed his arms, savoring the blood and agony for just a moment before death. "Its an insult. Do you think I'm pathetic enough that someone without a trace of magic could defeat me?" His hands came together, forming signs and then changing more quickly than mortal eyes could follow. "I'll finish this. If you won't play, I won't."

A hazy figure formed in the space between them, sharpening as the seconds lengthened into an emaciated blue-skinned figure with a broken marionette clutched in its arms. The doll's eyes snapped open, green glassy orbs that sent a collective shiver through the observers. It was a corpse, defying the conventions that a spirit monster ought reflect the life force of its wielder. The _thing _stared at them with a blank expression, eyes sunk deeply into the sockets. Its controller continued to make minute gestures, solidifying the connection between master and servant.

A stunned paralysis had settled over the palace dwellers. In the face of such a thing they felt themselves temporarily shocked, unable to move. Bakura, used to monstrosities among his own soldiers, had no such hindrance. In exchange for a piece of his soul he could call Diabound without a summoning charm, and he used this to his advantage, ordering his extension behind the white haired boy. "Don't expect us to play by the rules." Miming the action with his arms he swung his creature's serpentine tail down towards its target.

Caught off guard said target wasted precious seconds staring at the oncoming attack before diving out of the way. His leg was crushed beneath the full force of the attack, the clean snapping of bones ringing in the air.

Jonouchi swore, struggling against blood loss and the helping hands that dragged him out of harm's way. "Don't need help…from the likes of you. Bastard. I could take him." He swung his last working limb halfheartedly.

"This isn't the time for bravado, Jonouchi." Atemu leaned his comrade against the bed, using an overstuffed pillow to staunch the bleeding. His eyes turned to the fretful mage beneath the covers. "I'll have to take back my gift for the moment, little one." It was doubtful that Yuugi was aware of the words, or the battle that raged around them. Still, some habits die hard.

A great deal of the king's magic, linked not to one individual but to the throne itself, rested within the metallic shine of the puzzle. Hence, it had become the symbol of the ultimate trust, a metaphorical heart. "I can finish this without any more bloodshed."

Meanwhile, while the oh-so-slooooow scene played out behind them, the two almost-twins remained in locked combat. Despite the crippling effect of the broken bones the corpse-like creature moved with lightening speed. The lighting of the room was such that few shadows remained for Diabound to hide in, and the creature's bulk left it, and Bakura, open to attack. The thief winced as another blow doubled him over. Blood trickled from his lips.

Ryou's other half had dragged himself to the far wall, cradling his broken leg. His arms were outstretched before him, similar to a puppeteer. He sneered. "Beautiful, isn't she? But you couldn't understand. That hulking creature is all brute force; there's none of the careful finesse of my Dark Necrofear." His hands jerked upward, the puppet responding in kind with an easy maneuver out of Diabound's attack range.

Breathing harder now, Bakura searched vainly for a showy spot in the bright room. His eye caught on the king trying to remove the puzzle. "That trinket's useless to you, your _Highness_. Don't waste your time." Then the obvious answer came. The lamps. Douse the lamps and the whole room was a graveyard of shadows. "Oy, mage! Get rid of the lights and we might not end up as lifeless corpses!" The ever-psychotic smile twisted his features. "I'll even take the curse off that puzzle!" Let it not be mentioned that he could then easily slaughter them all. They would find out eventually.

Atemu's hand jumped back from the pendant, partly from the thief's words and partly from a foreboding feeling when he neared it. It gave off a metaphysical scent, now that he attended to it; the sickly-sweet odor of rotting fruit and decay. "Bastard." His hand clenched into a fist. The curse had to go, or Yuugi would be dead. For one moment, he would have to trust the slimiest, most deceptive filth on the planet. "Seto. The lights."

Seto bit back a retort. Love did strange things to the mind; the stranger the love the stranger the turn of thought. He closed ice around the lamps, plunging the room into darkness. Outside the window the moon cast dark shadows along the floor. The thief's eyes glittered in the dark, at home. "Much better."

The thief made to move from his stance, stopped by shards of ice growing up from the floor. "Your end of the bargain, thief." Seto growled. Don't trust your enemies as far as you can throw them.

"If only because that tactic is useless to me now." It was a hollow victory to scrape from the plan, but a victory nonetheless. He extended his hand, receiving the pendant that Atemu reluctantly gave over. To him it was a simple trick, to lay and to remove. He only had to call his magic back into himself from the puzzle-what was more poison to a white mage than invading black magic, he had thought. Useless thoughts now.

Bakura didn't entertain thoughts of keeping the puzzle; the magic didn't work for anyone not of the royal line, and he lacked the time to dismantle and study it. "Take your trinket back." He threw it, paying no mind to where it landed. The ice, mirroring the reluctance of its wielder mayhap, was slow in sloughing off his feet. And Diabound had taken a beating in the meanwhile. Bruises marched proudly up and down the thief's muscled form, some of the trickling blood from the abused flesh. He ordered his creature into the shadows, eyeing the king for his next movements.

Atemu watched Yuugi quiet noticeably with the puzzle's removal, slick with sweat but peaceful. A sick feeling gnawed at his stomach. His gift, curse or no, had brought upon the near death of his-what Yuugi was to him he could figure later. When the puzzle was returned to him it lacked the aura of disease and rot, indeed it thrummed with familiar power when Atemu placed it around his neck.

The corpse's gaze fixed squarely on the new threat, following its master's piercing eyes. 'Ryou' clutched his leg, growling several low and unintelligible comments. "Traitor thief." He finally spat out audibly. "In the end your hate for him wasn't so strong."

Bakura waved a hand, dismissing the words. "He'll die in good time. But you committed a far graver act of betrayal." His voice became a hiss. "You will suffer, and perhaps you will die for it."

Atemu's own creature, the protector of the royal line, was a magician, clad in flowing robes of purple. He stood behind it, watching the two trade biting retorts. That the thief had trusted something was all but impossible to his logic; but hadn't the thief risked his only true ally to rescue this creature?

The magician glanced at his master, on edge. "Not yet." Both creatures were far off. So long as there was distance between them there was time to plan.

"Just because you're out of the range of my hands doesn't make you safe, _Highness_." The sunken eyes of the corpse widened, revealing more blackened socket. The pupils contracted, and a bright beam of red struck the magician. Atemu fell to his knees, clutching his smoking chest; above him, the magician's armor was aflame.

Seto swore. Without eyesight to guide him it was all but impossible to maneuver in the situation. Too many targets, too much commotion. He was as likely to freeze an ally as the enemy. The smell of cooking meat was in the air. He directed the cold as best he could, putting out the flames. "Are you all right, you Highness?"

Atemu nodded first, in the habit of not answering verbally. "Yes." He corrected himself. "I'm alive, anyway." He'd had to remove the puzzle when the metal grew to an unbearable heat. His father had warned him to give himself time to adjust to the flux of magic. He just never thought that he would have to. Even when he replaced it he could feel the strain on his mind. Too much, too soon. "Black Magician. Give it our best shot…we only have one."

The servant moved to obey its master, raising the ornamental mage's staff high above its head. Green sparks cast shadows in the dark, forming a sizeable orb which the magician sent hurtling towards the other side of the room. The image wavered once, twice, then disappeared.

The crippled figure doubled over with laughter, watching the king fall to his knees after the last of his energy was exerted. "That's all you have?" The corpse's head twisted at an impossible angle, watching the compressed magic draw closer before darting nimbly away. "Not an observant fighter, are-" The rest of the words were interrupted by an inhuman cry. The attack had struck its true target-not the creature but the master behind it. His skin crackled and burned, wings and hair blazing. Agonized screams continued long after the flames themselves were gone, and at last there was only silence. "Is it…dead?" Jonouchi fought to stay conscious, even as the room slid in and out of focus.

"Not yet." Seto felt his way to his fallen allies, kneeling beside Atemu. From his position he could feel the life force of the berserker warrior-faint, but there.

Bakura approached the smoldering form with something akin to horror in his eyes. The voices were urging him to run while things were in disarray, cut his losses and form another plan. A far less sensible (if no less sane) part needed to see the damages. In silence he dropped to his knees beside the body, trailing calloused fingers along the burnt flesh.

Inwardly the Other Ryou fumed. Their body could take only so much damage before it ceased to function. If he hadn't let the outward personality out they would be dead. As was their magic was knitting them back together, and he was back where he started. In the depths of their shared mind he watched Bakura approach. A devilish idea came to mind.

Ryou opened his eyes, trying not to scream; Bakura hated weakness, even when it hurt. "Ba..Bakura. S-sorry." He winced. He leaned into the cool touch as best he could. "What, happened?" His eyes seemed to wander of their own accord, at last coming to a certain body lying on the floor. The blood around it had since congealed. He could see the stiffening in the digits. Bakura's fault.

The skin knit together beneath Bakura's finger's, some places with the bright shine of scar tissue. Ryou's white hair gleamed out as though under a coat of dust rather than the remains of old hair and skin. He hadn't avenged Malik yet. Wasn't that why he had let the horrible other out to begin with? _Be brave…have the courage of your conviction for once… _"I'm sorry." He raised a trembling hand and ran it through Bakura's hair.

The tone in that second apology caused Bakura's body to stiffen. He attempted to jerk away, but Ryou kept a sharp hold of his by his hair. His other hand was still twisted and burned as he brought it across the thief's throat, drenching the both of them in a shower of bright red that mingled with the boy's tears. "So, so sorry."

The thief's eyes widened, and a small smirk quirked his lips. This was what he got, he supposed, for giving even the smallest amount of trust. He contented himself with the soft brown of Ryou's eyes as the light left his own, feeling his increasingly distant body held by trembling arms.

When the body was cold, cold as Malik's had been, Ryou laid a small kiss atop the wild white curls and laid the form down. He stood, legs threatening to buckle, and made his way to the king and his servants. He knelt at their feet, sweeping his hair away from his neck. "Kill me, please. I've done terrible things, and I'm a danger as long as I breathe."

Something akin to pity moved Atemu. He nodded to the boy, then looked to Seto. He had barely the strength to lift his arms. "As you Highness wishes." Seto raised his arm, recalling the frozen daggers over his hand. "I regret your death." He addressed Ryou quietly. "You would have made an excellent student." He made a quick movement, meaning to kill the boy in the same manner that his thief had died.

Blood spattered the ground. "I don't…intend…to die." More blood oozed from the hand that had caught the mage's dagger, coloring the stones. The upheaval of will it had taken to switch the two mind had likely shattered the healer, the Other Ryou thought gleefully. Good. "I suppose I should thank him for getting me so close."

His finger's tightened, digging into the icy covering of Seto's hand. Fine cracks spread along the ice. He pulled the mage into his range. "What say we finish this now, hmm?"

Until recently dead to the world, Yuugi fought to open his eyes. "Atemu…" He had a bad feeling, and he was sure he'd heard screaming. But he'd heard so many things while he slept. And he'd seen so many terrible things, trapped in a nightmare where no one could be trusted.

Shades were all he could distinguish at first, then the blurs of familiar shapes. Everything was dyed a sickly shade of red, turning shades of brown. Jonouchi was there, Seto…and Ryou, the girl he had met that afternoon. Was it? 'Her' shirt was ragged and torn, enough that it revealed a flat, boyish chest. And charred wings rose from 'her' shoulder blades. Was he still dreaming?

The blankets had the weight of boulders, each one several tons. He slid out from under them, crawling to the edge of the bed. "Jonouchi, what-ah!" Jonouchi was breathing, but shallowly. Blood was all around him, the pillow having served to do little but hold it back. "Jonouchi!" Weakly he tried to recall his healing magic, but it shifted away from his feeble calls. The illness had left him weak, unable to command it.

Atemu looked towards the bed, panic shooting through him. He had to get Yuugi out of there, keep him out of harm's way. "Yuugi." His limbs were traitorous, unable to move him more than a few feet in any direction. The berserker eyed him with renewed interest, releasing Seto.

"Oh. Affection. What, _fun_." His lips twisted in a sardonic smile. "I should kill you. You are the biggest threat to me, if you ever learn to use that puzzle. And you're weak now." He fixed his eyes on Yuugi, who shrank back reflexively. "But why not cut out your heart first?"

__

The shield spell. Remember the shield spell. Yuugi scrambled backward, hitting the back wall with nowhere to go. Something Seto had told him once came to mind. _In times of crisis, a mage may use- _a hand wrapped around his throat, cutting off air and thought. _May use, may use their own life force as a substitute for magic._

He clawed at the chokehold, trying to loosen the pale fingers. He could feel something inside of him fluttering, dying. _Use that. _He reached out to hold it with invisible fingers, molding it the same as he would have for a normal charm. _Protect the people I care about. _There was a white light, and everything went blank.

White light was radiating from the small white mage, blinding everyone unfortunate enough to be within several feet. More than that. The Other Ryou felt a crumbling inside himself, a burning while the world grew hazy around the edges. And when the light cleared it was only Ryou that lay trembling on the floor.

"What the hell just happened?" Jonouchi reached down to rub his leg, only to discover the gaping wound was completely gone, though a fluffy pillow was cemented to his leg with dried blood. "the hell?" Beside him Atemu was rubbing his head, but he and Seto both seemed no worse for the wear. In fact, aside from the mage's eyes they all seemed to be more or less healed.

"Yuugi!" Atemu's priorities came back with his senses. He rushed to the bed, pulling the small body to him. "Yuugi, can you hear me?" The boy's chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, barely noticeable.

Seto grunted, something akin to 'heh', before joining his ruler, admittedly with more restraint. Yuugi was his best student, but his dignity always came first. "So he really was listening to me all those times I lectured him about dangerous situations. I probably wouldn't have told him if I had realized." He bowed his head, gritting his teeth. His face seemed to be fighting some kind of expression-pride for his student, sorrow?

Atemu cradled the body closer to him. "Is he going to die?" Given, his voice was very even. A stranger would assume that the king had his emotions completely under control, rather than having completely divorced himself from them. It was the only way he could function logically.

"I won't let him die." Two voices joined in the words. Surprised, Seto glanced (purely out of habit) at his feet, feeling something there. With small, deliberate moves the strange 'angel' was dragging himself towards the little mage. His vision was unfocused, but determined.

Atemu held Yuugi protectively, oddly unwilling to hand over the boy to someone who had recently tried to kill them all. "Its okay." Ryou said softly. "I'm not going to take him from you." His fingers brushed Yuugi's pale face lightly. "He extended his protection to me, even if he did it unwittingly. The part of me that could have hurt him is gone."

Reluctantly Atemu loosened his grip, resting Yuugi on the bed. Ryou smiled at him, slow and sad, and laid his hands over Yuugi's heart. "He's lucky he didn't die." Recalling the cool wells in him Ryou poured a piece of himself into Yuugi. Near as the boy was to death's precipice it was all he could think to do. When he had finished the mage wore a pinker coloring, a sleeping angel.

"I should tell you now." Ryou twisted his hands guiltily. "Before you continue on with what you should have had the right to do." He peered at Seto through his bangs. "You should know what I mean. You know how close to death he was."

Seto nodded gravely. "Most fortunate for you, isn't it. That a soul transfer was the only method to bring him back. The surest way to protect your own life as well."

Tears pricked Ryou's eyes. "I wanted to die." He whispered. "I wanted to join them. But-" he blinked the wetness away, "but someone has to bury their bodies, and someone has to be brave. Neither of them would want their memories carried by a coward."

Jonouchi shuddered. "You seem like an okay kid, with the crazy gone. How could you, _love_, someone like them? Do you know how many people they killed and tortured?" His eyes burned with rage. "He," he gestured at the thief, "was responsible for the death of Yuugi's family, and mine! And the other guy betrayed all of us! I'll never forgive them."

Ryou smiled, so small that it could be easily missed. "They were all that I knew, and they were kind to me whether or not you choose to believe me." He flinched, but forced himself to look at the bodies. "Bakura made me feel safe, in his way, and Malik truly cared. He wasn't a terrible person-if anything his crime was caring too much."

Jonouchi shook his head. "Whatever you say, kid." He glanced over his shoulder, to Atemu. "So what do we do with him?"

Atemu bit his lip, a habit he'd picked up from Yuugi. "It is undeniable that he caused a great deal of damage, aided the thief, nearly brought death upon us all. But, he also saved Yuugi."

Nearly brought death…Ryou's eyes widened. "The army!" Outside the window dawn was threatening, the first purples beginning to color the atmosphere. "Oh no, oh no." He glanced sharply at Jonouchi, then at Seto. "You two have to go, right now. There's going to be hundreds of them." Aggravated by the stares he received, he gestured outside. "Go! You shouldn't need a large force, and the two of you are protected by Yuugi's charm. But if you let them inside the walls…" He let the threat hang. There were many places to hide in the palace. They would never find them all.

Jonouchi sprang to his feet, fists clenched in determination. "He's right. My feelings have never been wrong-something bad's coming." He glanced at Seto when he was halfway out the door. "You coming, or what?"

Seto smirked. "Restrain yourself, halfwit. I'm coming." Veins appeared on Jonouchi's temple, and the remaining trio could hear him shouting curses even after the two were gone.

Atemu folded his fingers together, watching Yuugi sleep with a soft look in his eyes. It sent a pang through Ryou's heart. If things had been different…well, he couldn't see Bakura giving anyone that look, but Malik…It was a moment before he realized that Atemu had been speaking to him. "I'm sorry. What?"

"I asked what it is you would like to do. This is twice that you've proved yourself helpful, and for that if nothing else I can give you a small say in your fate."

Sliding off the bed Ryou went first to Malik, then Bakura, gathering the stiffening forms into his arms. "I'd like to bury them. A proper burial, somewhere quiet in the forest. Oh," he continued quickly, seeing the skeptical look on Atemu's face "I don't mean to go alone. If you feel a guard must accompany I would understand." He reached over his shoulder to stroke the sleek black shape. "Or you could simply cut this off."

The shock must have shown on Atemu's face, because Ryou laughed at him. "It won't kill me, and its hardly less than I deserve. Just the black, if you wouldn't mind-I need the white one to work my healing powers." So much he'd missed by being separated from his other mind, and so much he'd learned in the brief time that they were joined. He felt more complete. "Then you can be assured I won't have the ability to fight anyone off." Not that he could have anyway, without his other. But the king deserved recompense for the blood spilt.

A moment passed between them, the silence interrupted by the sound of battle outside as the sky turned to a rich shade of orange and gold. "Sounds as though the battle has started." He watched the sun make its journey with the same fascinated interest he'd shown for everything else in life, just muted by sorrow. "So, do we have an accord?"

"And after you've said your goodbyes?" Atemu forced himself to leave Yuugi, unable to resist brushing the bangs from his face as he did so.

"Its not important beyond that." Ryou toyed with his white hair. IT was so stained; red, brown, and sooty black, until the white was barely distinguishable. Irony. "Torture me, imprison me. I would be interested to learn from your mage, if you want nothing else from me. Once upon a time I was looking for answers."

The bleakness of the boy's plans was heartbreaking. He was so young, but so hopeless. Searching for something to fill the heavy silence Atemu recalled once something he'd read. No use getting the boy's hopes up if it wasn't right…he resolved to ask Seto. "Stay here with Yuugi for now. I will see that you bury them. But my place is by my people's side." He swept from the room, thoughts of the mourning boy overpowering his thoughts.

---

With Ryou's warning it was less a battle than a bloodbath. The five hundred odd thieves, heavily relying on the element of surprise, met quick ends beneath the blades of Jonouchi's soldiers. Those skilled enough to make the castle walls found their bodies torn apart by Seto and his mages. None made it so far as the king himself.

Jonouchi winced, shying away from the cleaning salves that were being applied to the cut on his face. "Hey, watch it would you?"

Anzu huffed, trying to hold the warrior still. "You're so pathetic, Jonouchi! You go out into battle no problem but you can't handle getting your wounds cleaned? I don't know why Atemu doesn't just put you on the front lines."

Jonouchi stuck his tongue out. "Because he knows that you'll worry about me." He grinned. He was rewarded with an extra harsh scrubbing for his words. "Ow!"

"Serves you right for saying it!" Anzu's cheeks were flushed a bright pink. "Honestly, you're such a jerk." She replaced the rag and began to adhere a small bandage to the wound. "What about Seto? I thought the two of you came back together this morning."

"He had something he needed to do." Jonouchi replied cryptically. By now they'd be out In the middle of nowhere, exactly as was fitting. "I'll never understand it."

---

The puzzle glinted in the early light, once more safely around Yuugi's neck. The mage himself sat in the king's private study, a similar but inevitably grander version of his own. Atemu sat near him, obviously unsure of what to say. "Yuugi." Yuugi jumped several feet, as nervous as the king was.

"Y-your Highness?" Why was he blushing? Why was he so nervous? Nothing was any different than it had been before. Except that it was different. Everything was different.

Atemu sighed wearily. "Don't call me that Yuugi, please. We need to talk." He looked down at his hands, trying very hard to remember what he'd rehearsed to himself. "It was wrong of me to give that to you without informing you of the bond that it would entail. I suppose I assumed that you were already aware." Stupid thing to assume. Yuugi went about oblivious to much of the world, outside his studies and friends. This should be no different.

Yuugi held the pendant, turning it this way and that, examining it as he'd done a hundred times before. "It just makes sense now, why Anzu was so upset to see me with it. I think she liked you."

"Yes, well," he hastened to move on from that particular point, "what I meant to tell you was that now that I've given it to you I can't take it back. I can't break that bond. Only you can do that, if you wish to."

Silence for a moment. "Does that mean you regret giving it to me?"

"No!" Atemu shook his head back and forth, in danger of whiplash from the speed. "Never. I would give much to ensure that you are protected Yuugi. My puzzle is only a small piece of that."

Yuugi's face grew hotter. "But, the kingdom, and heir-" he began.

Atemu waved his hand. "Those things can be worried about at a later date. Believe me, I have heard much from Seto telling me that I am foolhardy, forsaking my duty to the kingdom, and so on. Truthfully, I believe he's only worried he will lose his prize student. But all of that has nothing to do with right now."

"T-then, if you're sure," Yuugi gulped, "I really want to keep the puzzle. I want to stay with you, forever." Before he could change his mind his hand shot out, covering Atemu's. "Can't things stay the way they are? You come to see me every day, and we'll talk and you'll play my games with me. I'm always so happy then."

Take what you can get, don't ask for more. So says the mind of a fool in love. Atemu nodded eagerly. "If that is what you want, then that's the way things will be." He must have crestfallen, for Yuugi frowned.

One more brave move, one last thing. Then he could return to his room and burst from embarrassment. Quickly he leaned over the distance between their chairs, placing a kiss on Atemu's cheek. "I guess," he blushed, "a few things could change."

Had Atemu's smile been any brighter it would have been visible from space.

---

All over the kingdom the people rejoiced in the death of the thief that had terrorized. But it was not universal happiness. Ryou replaced the last bit of dirt, kneeling before the two freshly dug mounds. He was sure that he'd been out of tears, but several drops nonetheless consecrated the graves. "I'll never see them."

Seto stood a respectful distance away, uncomfortable with the emotional scene. "You've realized then, that you cannot die."

Ryou's hands tightened, clawing several small clods of dirt from the earth. "Not unless someone kills me. I won't grow old, and I won't get sick. And no one can kill me because Yuugi would die." His breath caught. "I've damned myself."

"Reincarnation." Seto intoned mildly. "A phenomenon in which it is believed that the human soul shall be granted one life cycle on earth, repeating itself every one hundred years."

Ryou held very still, afraid this news would dissipate if he moved. "Then, that means. Malik, Bakura-"

Seto cut him off. "Not Bakura. You were made from his information, and a piece of his soul is thus in you. An incomplete soul cannot be reborn." He snorted. "I cannot say I am sorry. Malik, however, died with his soul intact, however darkened it was." In another his look would have been one of reminiscence. "I never really hated him, despite what he seemed to think."

Fresh tears sprang to Ryou's eyes. "One hundred years. And I'll never see Bakura again." He curled in on himself, letting the tears flow out of Seto's sight.

Seto coughed, more and more uncomfortable. "You are welcome, if you so choose, to study under me while you wait out your century. I do not intend to die any time soon. And perhaps I will finally be able to pass on more than a fraction of my knowledge."

One hundred years. But, he could learn his answers, he would find his meaning. And it would be worth it just to see Malik again. "Will he be the same?"

"No soul is exactly the same from life to life but yes, his basic personality will be as you remember it, as will his most basic physical traits. I take it then that you will be accepting my offer?" He glanced over his shoulder.

Ryou stood, wiping the tears from his eyes. He flexed his one remaining wing, staring at the bright blue sky. When one was to live forever what, really, was one hundred years? A drop in the bucket, and he would be rewarded with a lifetime of bliss. When his eyes were dry he joined Seto. "I'll gladly learn all that you have to teach to me."

Something close to a smile crossed Seto's features. "Then let us go."

And the boy left behind the life he had known with the thief and his assistant, abandoned all that he had known for the chance of happiness that glimmered in the distance like a far off star. Travelers on their trek to the capitol city would pass the mounds without a thought to the bodies which lie there, or to the story that they brought about, for there were no markers. But when a year had passed and spring came upon the landscape a small bush, blooming with a single white rose, began to grow.


	8. Coda

Although the fic works well enough where I left it last chapter, I still wanted to write this little epilogue type thing. Just for a because, and I wanted a true happy ending. I'm a sucker that way. I want to thank all of you who've stuck by this story to its conclusion. For the love and reviews, I'm truly grateful. Hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: YuGiOh is the property of Kazuki Takahashi. This particular Death belongs to Neil Gaiman. Go forth and worship the both of them.

---

Epilogue

"Ryou, tell me one more time. Please? I'm not tired yet." A tiny hand tugged persistently at him, not to be ignored.

The non-captured hand ran its course through drastically shortened white hair. He'd cut it to remember him. Always to remember him. "Its almost dark. I have things to do, and you need to be in bed. What would your father say if he knew I let you stay up all night?"

The little boy sobered, considering. "He'd ask why you didn't have me studying as long as I was up."

Ryou smiled. It was an unfair tool of youth, that adorable ability to charm. "Yes, yes I suppose he would. He's like your great grandfather in that respect." Caving, he sat on the nearby windowsill. "Come sit with me then."

The little boy scrambled into his teacher's arms, settling comfortably in his lap and drawing the comforting softness of that white feathered wing into his hands. "Start at the beginning."

He was just like him, almost. It hurt Ryou's heart to be around the boy, more so because he knew that this wasn't Malik's soul. Just a little piece of his family: Ishizu's grandchild. Such beautiful blue eyes. "One hundred years ago, here in this very kingdom, there was a terrible war. A powerful evil was seeking to overthrow the kingdom, and was fast gaining the power to do so. Every day the people lived in fear."

"But the kingdom was gifted with a very wise and powerful ruler, and he had a plan. One day he told his mages to create a being of great power, and to send it among his enemies. This creature would never age nor tire, and would have the power to destroy the great evil." Well, stories did have a way of changing with the passage of time.

He paused for dramatic effect, causing the body in his arms to squirm impatiently. When a story's been told a thousand times there was room for some theatrics. "And the mages did just that. But on its journey the angel crashed to the earth and lost its memory, and took the leader of the enemy as his own commander. He led him into the palace, to destroy the king."

"The king prepared hurriedly for the arrival of his enemy. He gathered his bravest warrior and his most powerful mage to himself, and went to wait for his opponent." He ruffled the boy's hair. "And that was your great grandfather."

The boy beamed. Ryou continued. "There was a grand battle, and the thief was slain, though not without grievous injury on the side of good. And peace came over the land, where it lasts to this day." He shifted, dislodging the boy. "Now go to bed."

Much grumbling was heard, as well as much shuffling and dragging of feet. But if there was something that one learns in the course of a century, it must be dealing with people. Particularly the small ones. Not understanding them of course, but managing them. Perhaps Seto had foreseen this evolution in his skills when he asked him (is it truly a request when one is on their deathbed?) to take his position.

The little body paused once at the door, watching Ryou pull on a cloak. "Teacher, why do you always wear that red cloak?"

Aside from fraying at the edges and a hole cut in the back, the fabric hadn't altered much in the course of a century. "It belonged to someone who was very important in my life, once upon a time." Satisfied, the child padded off and Ryou was alone.

The grave site had long become a mere fixture of nature, though it was avoided by the public. Ryou in his red coat was the spitting image of Bakura, and the rumor had spread that the thief's ghost haunted the woods. Only the very foolish wandered very near, and quickly lost their nerve once alone in the undergrowth.

Ryou knelt before the twin graves, hands clasped together. He didn't believe in prayers nor gods, but it gave him a sense of peace. It made him feel closer to them, even if what lay beneath the ground had long since rotted. "I can't keep this up. Its been over a century now. One hundred and twenty years I've waited, and nothing." He bowed his head low, his forehead brushing the earth. "I can't do this to Yuugi."

Poor, poor Yuugi, trapped in an enchanted sleep now, tied to life as long as Ryou clung to the earth by that one piece of soul that they shared. The anguished look no his face when he realized he couldn't join Atemu in death was seared forever in Ryou's mind. A braver soul would have died for his friend's happiness, but…"I have to see him one more time. Just one more time."

Footsteps sounded behind him. "What's a pretty lady like you doing in a place like this? And crying, no less." The stranger made a small _tsk_ noise. "And I expected to find ghosts."

Ryou wiped at his eyes, rising to his feet. He kept his back to the stranger. "I'm not a girl." His white fingers brushed dirt away from the long fringes of the coat. "This is a place of mourning. If you're looking for thrills you can keep going."

"Hey, hey, don't be like that." A hand laid itself on his shoulder. "I didn't mean to upset you. What, family buried here or something?" The pressure on his shoulder increased; the stranger was standing on tip toes, looking for graves. "I was kidding about the ghosts."

Ryou's heart gave a lurch. He'd kept himself well away from physical contact, excusing the occasional late-night comforting of one of his students. From someone his own height it was…disconcerting. He raised his arm to brush the hand away, turning as he did so. "Please go-" His arm only made it half way-about the distance he turned before catching sight of the young man's face. His breathing became labored, and tears fought to get out.

A confused look crossed the blonde's face. "Is something wrong?" Dumb question. Something more wrong than the obvious, he should have said.

Ryou shook his head, resisting the urge to touch the achingly familiar hair. "You look like someone I knew once." He busied himself with wiping away the tears that were threatening to fall. "I'm sorry."

Without thinking about his actions the young man put his arm around the white haired mage, squeezing the way one would comfort a young sibling. "Nothing to be sorry about. My fault for interrupting." He paused to consider the red cloak. "So, are you the ghost everyone talks about seeing?"

"You might say that I didn't exactly discourage the rumor. It keeps this place sacred." Ryou winced at the word. Bad choice.

"I never held much with religion. My family's really dedicated to the whole 'supreme deity' idea but, I just can't." His eyes were tired like Malik's had been, though a beautiful shade of blue.

Ryou turned away, kneeling in front of the rose bush. His fingers caressed the soft leaves, leaving speckles of blood on the burgeoning blossoms as they passed over thorns. "If there is a God then I have never met it, nor felt that there was more to my existence than those I care about."

The blonde nodded almost too quickly, finally hearing what he had asked himself all along. "I can't stand it! My life is mine to live." He clenched his fists dramatically. "I'll find what I believe in, no matter what my father wants me to believe."

Seto's lessons were true, it seemed. "Even as the body changes, the soul remains the same." Malik had said similar things, and certainly he had been one for rebellion. Ryou's fingers clenched. Hadn't that been what had gotten him killed, in the end? "Ow!" Blood welled up in the palm of his hand, which had closed over a thorn.

Again without thinking Malik's look-alike moved to comfort the other, taking his hand and placing a small kiss over the puncture wound. A moment passed, and he seemed to come back to himself. "This is, awkward." He stuttered. "Um, I'm Marik."

Ryou ignored the young man's blustering, calmly willing the ragged skin closed again. Decades of study did count for something. "Tell me," he regarded the soft lines of his palm, "do you believe in an afterlife? A resting place for the soul?"

How did he always manage to find the strange ones? "I don't know. I want to, just to make all of this worth it." He shrugged. "But who knows?"

A cool wind blew across the landscape, carrying a melancholy sigh away into the night. "No one knows. But many have ideas, and that is what I asked you." What was he hoping? That somewhere, in the back of his mind, this boy remembered what he had seen between worlds? Unlikely at best.

"You're strange." Marik wrinkled his brow, squatting near the mourner with a peculiar look in his eyes; as if trying to remember something. "I guess I feel like I've done this whole thing before, a hundred times. It all seems boring."

Ryou nodded. "_And upon the century of its death a soul shall seek a new body, to be given another chance to live out its life._"

Marik blanched. "Don't say that." He shivered. "Can you imagine? Stuck doing the same thing over and over and over…"

"There's more to it, if you'd let me finish." Ryou sighed. "_Each successive rebirth shall bring the soul closer to perfection. Upon reaching such a state the soul shall enter nirvana, and its final rest_."

What kind of person asked a complete stranger what they thought of death? It was disquieting. "I've heard worse theories." He wished this stranger would look at him, do something to make himself seem more real, less an ethereal presence.

"Then you believe its true? That someday we truly leave behind this mortal coil, to see those we love?" As if hearing the blonde's wish Ryou stood, staring at him with hyper-intense brown eyes.

"Sure." Marik faltered. Behind the intensity that gaze was so _sad_.

Ryou smiled then. "Thank you." His hands grasped either side of Marik's face, drawing him in for a kiss. Marik stiffened in shock, afraid to move either away or closer. He'd kissed others before, plenty of them. But a stranger had never felt so familiar as this one did.

He settled for blustering, only after Ryou had pulled away. "Don't I get some kind of introduction at least? N-not that I'm exactly complaining but-"

Ryou covered Marik's mouth with one hand. "Its Ryou. But you don't really need to know that. That was…for old time's sake, if you will." He felt a head rush coming on: he'd never needed to borrow magic after that day, and hadn't felt much need for kissing either. It was quite the experience.

Curiously, his ability to breathe seemed to have ceased. Strange. Ryou. Seemed familiar. But then, this entire night had a sense of déjà vu about it. "What are you doing?" He blanched.

Ryou turned with the robe halfway down his back. "Calm down." With the smallest flourish the cloak was off, the red cloth hanging loosely in his arms. Beneath it Ryou wore a simple tunic. "I need you to do something for me."

Not waiting for Marik's ascent, he continued. "In a few days there's going to be a funeral. I need you to go, and to wear this." Closure was a strange thing. "Will you do that for me?" He freed a rose from the bush, twirling it around in his fingers thorns and all.

About to refuse outright, Marik instead found himself relieving his bizarre companion of the cloak, and putting it on himself. It wasn't as if it was something enormous, and it would get him out of services for the day. "How do I know where to go?"

Another enigmatic smile. "Believe me, you'll hear about it." He made his away back to the road, whispering softly as he passed. "I'll be waiting for you, Malik."

Marik watched him go, only thinking to shout long after he'd gone; "What's that supposed to mean?" A night of confusion wrapped in a mystery swathed in enigma. Marik went to bed that night with a headache.

---

No light had touched the room in a very long time. With the passing of time most had forgotten that it even existed. Ryou's feet maneuvered through the pitch with the ease of muscle memory, not even bothering with artificial light. He spoke, and his voice came out low, commanding. "I release thee from our contract, ready to fulfill its tenants."

It felt cold without the cloak, which had become almost an extension of himself. He waited a beat, then two, until he heard the telltale movement of waking. "Its me." He said quietly, summoning a small blue light in his hands.

Age is not kind to those obeying time's natural flow, and even less to those stuck in the middle. Yuugi shielded his eyes from the light, and his skin was waxy and pale, corpselike. His eyes were exhausted. "How long has it been?"

"Since your sleep? I imagine…seventy." A very lonely seventy years for Ryou.

Yuugi drew his knees up to his chest, processing the information. "And Seto? Jonouchi? Anzu?"

Ryou nodded. "They've all gone on. All but us."

Yuugi bit his lip. "I'm really sorry Ryou. I didn't mean to leave you all alone."

Ryou shook his head, laying a hand on the mage's shoulder. "Its understandable. There are days I just wanted to sleep too, and I chose to remain here."

"But if I'm awake," Yuugi shot Ryou a wide eyed look. "You found him?"

"It wasn't what I expected it to be." He shrugged. "But I shouldn't have expected anything. I've had more than my time here. And it isn't fair to keep you alive so I can cling to an old dream." He crossed his fingers. "Here's to hoping all of that about 'final resting places' isn't completely wrong, hmm?"

"Ryou…" He watched Ryou produce a white rose, looking away when his friend made long red lines down his wrist with the thorns.

"Hey, Yuugi?" Ryou's voice was breathy, the effect of rapid blood loss evident. "Do you think they take fractured souls like mine? In paradise?"

"Mmm. I'm sure. You're a good person, after all. That's all that matters." The piece of Ryou within him was beginning to flicker and die, and without it his body was hard-put to function. Death wasn't so bad.

Ryou felt himself sinking to the floor, felt it in a fuzzy manner, quite distant from himself. "I hope, I," the rest was lost. The darkness around him got colder, and all sound faded away. _So this is how it feels to be dead._

__

Is that a light? It forced back the darkness, and as Ryou reached out to touch it a scene swam into focus before him. Below his feet was a gathering of several hundred people. Tear tracks were prominent among many of them. One by one Ryou saw the faces of several of his students, and Marik, adorned in the red cloak. _Don't cry for me. _And the scene was gone.

Time was flexible in the dark. Ryou at times felt as if he'd just arrived, only to be crushed under the weight of ticking seconds a few moments later. But try as he might sleep wouldn't come. Every time he shut his eyes the exhaustion would flee just beyond his reach. Was this eternity?

"You're a hard one to track down, you know?" The voice behind Ryou was light and feminine, remarkably cheerful for such a dark place. "I must have combed over about six different versions of this world."

__

Who are you? A nagging feeling in his stomach told Ryou that they had met before. _I feel as though I know you. _In some ways she reminded him of Anzu, but that wasn't quite it.

"Yeah. I get that a lot. We've met…but people don't tend to remember that." Ryou could see her clearly now, a young woman with chalk white skin and wild black hair. Ankhs adorned her body in various places; her neck, her ears, and a loose belt that hung around her waist. She extended a hand to him. "Shall we go?"

__

Go where? He had been formless for a while, and it took concentration to form a hand to grasp hers. _Don't I have to stay here longer, suffer?_

One eyebrow quirked up. "It hasn't been long enough? You remind me of my younger brother…always trying to punish himself for things that happened in the past. Men." Together they walked through and out of the darkness.

Being solid again after floating in darkness was similar to walking into fresh air after spending several hours on a plane; refreshing as a slap in the face. Ryou rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "How long have I been dead?" Unused, his voice was hoarse.

The woman shrugged. "Some time before I found you, I would guess. Your kind believes in reincarnation, right?" Ryou nodded. "Probably four or five life cycles." She smiled at him. "I wouldn't worry about it. You're a nice kid, Ryou. I like you."

Worlds swirled past them. Ryou caught flashes of lives, frozen moments in time that were gone as soon as they appeared. Before long they had stopped, and he stared up at an immense archway. "This is as far as I can take you. I think you'll be okay."

Frightened to be on his own, Ryou started. "Through there? What, what is it?"

She shrugged. "Think of it as the afterlife. I assume you don't want to go back again-you proved that by hiding out from me for a few centuries."

Ryou scuffed his boots against the ground. "I didn't mean to."

The kind smile returned. "I know you didn't. Now go on, there's people waiting for you. And I've got others to take care of." She placed her hands on his back, and pushed him through.

---

On the other side of the arch the ground changed. Beneath his quite bare feet was soft grass, similar to the wild green that had grown up around Malik and Bakura's graves. The sky was a soft gray, the kind that could foreshadow either rain or merely a cooling wind. Ryou had always loved the rain.

"Took you long enough to get here." Resting on a rock several yards away was a familiar figure, clad in red and looking, as he always had, perpetually annoyed. "Do you know how boring this place is? No one around for miles!" He gestured at the sky, at the empty plain. "Still." A rare smile crossed the man's face. "I suppose she did show me my family."

"Quit rambling, thief. He just got here." Another familiar voice, this one coming from behind him. "And its not that bad. Ryou's here now, and I saw my sister…" Ryou could imagine the smile, even if he couldn't see it.

Unable to process it all, he sat where he was, holding his head in his hands. There was the sound of movement, and then two sets of arms around his shoulders. "What is this place? She wouldn't tell me."

"Its whatever we want it to be, pet." The familiar growl purred against the back of his neck. "Whatever you want."

Malik nodded, his nose pressed in Ryou's hair. "The others are here too. Whenever you want to see them."

Ryou was crying, well and truly, for the first time since he had laid those two bodies in the ground. He grasped their arms as best he could, shoulders shaking from the sobs. "There's, p-plenty of time for that. I just want to stay with you two right now. For as long as I can."

He felt his body being shifted, and a sound from Bakura that sounded suspiciously like 'Mine'. Comforting warmth pressed against him from either side. Wind sang sweetly over the trio, something like music. Ryou fancied it something like a waltz. And at last he was at peace.

Fin


End file.
